


The Princess, the Goblin, and the Wolf

by DarkraixCresselia



Category: The Princess and the Goblin - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Blood, Death, Depictions of killing, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fighting, Hunting, Interrogation, Interspecies Friendship, Interspecies Romance, Journey, Minor Character Deaths, Near Drowning, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Revenge, Running Away, Secrets, Swimming, Torture, Truce, Violence, lying, slow burn (?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 95,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkraixCresselia/pseuds/DarkraixCresselia
Summary: Ten years had passed since the goblins invaded the castle. Irene never thought she would see them again. But when there is murder, and the wrong party is blamed, she strikes a deal with her enemy, the goblin prince, Froglip, to find the true villain and kill him before he can harm anyone else.





	1. Prologue -- Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

_It was horrible and chaotic that day when the goblins attacked. They came seemingly from nowhere; and when the water came flooding into and through the castle, it took them away to who one knows where._

_For several years after, no one heard from the creatures. Not the royal family, nor the miners who knew the most about the goblins. Thus, the events that happened years after that day were a great surprise to everyone, royal and common-folk._

* * *

After urging her father to double the guard on account of the oncoming goblin threat, the king told Irene to stay in her room until they were sure the threat was over, or even not coming. She didn't protest much, as she still feared the creatures and what they could do to her people.

The golden-haired girl wandered about her room, finding herself bored without someone to talk to, or something specific to do. She ran her fingers along her harp, gently pushed at the rocking unicorn she had since she was small so it rocked a few times, and glanced in the various chests, only to find nothing new or of interest.

As she sat at her vanity, she thought back to what had happened only a few hours prior; when she tried to show Curdie her great-great-grandmother. It had hurt very much that he didn't believe her, and that they had parted on such cold terms. She had already forgiven him for his attitude—she could hardly blame him, and he was her friend, after all—and hoped she could see him again. And perhaps he could forgive her for being so rude and unladylike to him.

“Irene!”

She jumped at the sudden sound. In the mirror, she saw the door leading into her room was open, and in the doorway was Curdie. He held a sword in his hand, and looked both bewildered and relieved. “Oh, thank goodness you're safe,” he sighed.

“Curdie?!” Irene exclaimed, standing and approaching him. “What are _you_ doing here?”

His smile melted into a determined expression. “The goblins are here!” he replied.

Irene's eyes widened. She knew it would inevitably happen, but she hadn't expected for them to come so soon.

The children failed to notice the rocking unicorn, which was next to the door, rock a few times as if something had bumped it forcefully. “Stay inside, and lock your door,” Curdie continued, stepping back out of the room. “I'll help fight them off!”

“Can't I come too?” she asked as he hurried into the hallway outside of her room. After all, she knew singing would ward them off.

“No, stay here where it's safe,” he shook his head, holding a hand to stop her as she began to follow him.

“You _will_ come back though, won't you?” she asked in a small, yet hopeful voice. He seemed happy to see her, but she didn't know if he was still internally cross with her.

He paused in his step and turned back. “I'll be back,” he nodded, waving his sword in the air. The light caught on it briefly, making it appear to be glowing. “That's a promise!” he declared before turning and running down the hall.

Irene could just barely hear what sounded like pounding feet and voices she didn't recognize, as well as what sounded like fighting. She returned to her room, closed the door, and turned the lock, letting out a sigh of relief that she was safe.

But she realized something as she turned and began to walk away from the door: something didn't feel right. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something... sinister in the air. It made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, a chill run up her spine, and gave her an uneasy fluttering in her stomach.

She let out a whimper as she froze, and slowly turned around. Her eyes widened, and she involuntarily stepped back with a scream.

Standing right next to the door, thus being hidden behind it when it was open, was a tall, light-green goblin with wild dark-pink hair that billowed out behind and between two large, pointed ears, big, round yellow eyes, and a wide, maniacal grin. He wore a black cape lined with pink around his neck, pinned by a skull-shaped pin, and a dark-teal loincloth.

He chuckled darkly as he began to approach her. She let out another throaty scream as she stumbled away, bumping into the head of her rocking unicorn. Glancing at it, she shoved it around so it faced to the side of her and the goblin, and pushed it at him, all with surprisingly-sudden strength. It fell on its side against his shins, making him jump back with a pained grunt. She used this distraction to run away. But because she was so frightened, she ran away from the door, and instead deeper into her room.

The goblin shoved the rocking unicorn away and ran after her, growling, “Come back here!”

Irene tripped over one of her chests, pushed herself up, and continued running away. “Go away!” she yelled. She ran around a table that had a basket of roses, and instead of going around it as well, the goblin simply pushed it to the side, knocking it over, and sending the roses scattering about the floor.

She crashed into her bed, and ran around it so it was between her and the goblin. He grinned at her, revealing only two teeth in each corner of his mouth, and began to climb over the bed. Crying out in fright, she grabbed a pillow and began smacking him across the face with it. “Get out of here!” she shouted again.

He grunted in surprise, and grabbed out at her, though he merely grabbed and pulled at the bed curtains, giving Irene time to throw the pillow at him and run again. Shaking his head, and making his ears smack about, the goblin chased after her again; the two hit and knocked over furniture as they continued their game of cat-and-mouse, until he finally managed to grab her by the arm. “Gotcha!” he declared.

Yelping, Irene kicked at him until her foot hit one of his own single-toed feet. He cried out loudly in pain and let her go to grab at his foot. She used this time to run away again. This time, as soon as she saw the door leading out of her room, she ran to it and tried to open it, only to realize, and remember, that she locked it. But she knew she wouldn't have time to unlock it, open it, and escape, as the goblin would have surely recovered from her kick.

Then, she remembered something Curdie had told her when they first met: _if there's one thing they can't stand, it's a song. They_ hate _music._ Granted, it was regarding the goblin pets at the time, but he had further explained that goblins also hated singing.

Turning to face the goblin, who had indeed recovered from his injury, and was now approaching her quickly with an angry expression, Irene pulled a determined face, opened her mouth, and took a deep breath.

He must have realized what she was about to do because he lunged forward, shoved her against her door with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other; he also stood on both of her feet. “If you th'o much a'th utter a th'ingle tune, I'll th'lit your throat!” he hissed in a heavy lisp, coating her face and his hand in spit. “Or, better yet, I'll do that to that Th'un-Boy! He could u'the th'ome punishment after the la'tht time we met.”

Her eyes widened in horror. It was frightening enough that the goblin was threatening her, but to hear him threatening her friend was worse.

She grabbed his wrist with both hands, and pulled his hand down off of her mouth. She tried to think of something equally-threatening to say, but all that came out was a small whimper, “Y-you can't.”

He blinked a few times, as if he was astonished at what she said, and then laughed out loud. “'Y-you can't,'” he mocked. Then, his expression turned from amused to angry, and he growled, “I can do what I want, Th'un-Prin'the'th!”

“P-please, don't hurt him,” she pleaded. “I'll, I'll do anything!”

A smirk grew on his face, and he quirked an eyebrow. “Anything?” he purred.

It was then that Irene realized what she must do. A small part of her was urging, if not outright pleading, for her to not do it. But she didn't want anything or anyone to harm Curdie, especially if she could have done something to prevent it.

Taking a deep breath, she replied with as steady of a voice as she could muster, “Yes. It's obvious it's me you want, as you came into my room, chasing after me. S-so... if I go willingly with you, you mustn't harm Curdie.” At the confused expression, she explained, “The... Sun-Boy, as you called him. You can't hurt him.”

Snarling, the goblin asked, “Why shouldn't I? And why should I believe anything you th'ay?”

“Because I'm willing to leave with you in exchange for leaving him alone,” she replied. “Especially since I was avoiding you before.”

The goblin pulled a contemplative expression, even tapping his chin with a pointed dark-green claw. “I'm able to take you, do anything I wish to you, and in return, I leave th'e Th'un-Boy alone?”

“Precisely,” Irene nodded, still taking slow, deep breaths to calm her still-racing heart.

After a few more seconds, he grinned, “Very well, Prin'the'th, I'll not harm a hair on hi'th head. Now then, if you would be th'o kind,” he said sarcastically, nodding at the locked door.

As soon as the goblin agreed to the deal, even though it was what she wanted, she still felt her heart skip a beat in fear. But still, she nodded, and turned to unlock the door. As soon as she did, the goblin held both of her arms behind her back with one large hand, opened the door with the other, and peeked out. Irene almost hoped someone was out there, so they may save her.

But there was no one. Not even her little kitten, Turnip—though she knew he wouldn't stand a chance against a goblin. Satisfied, said goblin pushed her out of the room, and shut the door behind him. “Now, th'tay quiet,” he hissed in her ear, dampening it and her hair as he spoke, “and don't make a th'ingle th'ound. Otherwi'the...” he trailed off as he shoved her down the halls.

But she didn't need him to further explain. She knew the consequences if she alerted anyone to her predicament. So, she let him force her down the hallways. She could still hear battle sounds, but after several minutes of walking, and hiding to avoid humans running through the castle, she began to hear something else: people calling out for her. This made a shiver run down her spine.

Soon, they were walking down a set of stairs into the wine cellar. Shelves had been knocked to the ground, some barrels were smashed to pieces, and empty, half-empty, and full wine bottles were scattered across the ground. In the back of the room, she saw a large hole in the floor and against the wall. _This must be how they got in,_ she thought to herself.

There were also several knights in the cellar. Some were coming out of the tunnel, and others were looking throughout the entire room. But this didn't stop the goblin. He carefully, yet quickly, snuck down the stairs, past the knights, who were starting to leave, and hid himself and her among the remaining wine barrels. “Remember, not a th'ound,” he reminded her, whispering so low into her ear, she could barely hear him.

She nodded numbly as she saw all but five knights go up the stairs. Three of them approached the entrance to the tunnel, and the other two continued looking around the room, presumably for her and any remaining goblins. She gulped nervously, and let out a tiny gasp when the goblin squeezed her lower arms.

After a few minutes, there was an urgent voice coming down the stairs, “Get out! Quickly!”

To her shock, Curdie came running down and into the cellar, panting heavily as if he had been running throughout the entire castle. The sword he had previously was gone. “Drop everything and run!” he shouted to the men.

The goblin backed further behind the wine barrels, taking Irene with him so she could no longer see what was happening. “I'll check the cellar! Get out, quick! Or you'll all drown!”

She heard the knights chattering among themselves as they stopped what they were doing and ran back up the stairs. She could hear them still shouting for her.

It all sunk in what she was doing: she was allowing her enemy to essentially kidnap her, and take her back to his lair under the mountains to do whatever he wanted with her. She would never see any humans again. She wouldn't see any of the knights, she wouldn't see Lootie, or Curdie, or her dear father again.

At these thoughts, she began to cry. The goblin tugged her back, as if to tell her to be quiet. But it was too late. “Who's that?... Irene!” Curdie said softly.

When she looked up, she saw him standing in front of her, looking both sad and relieved. “Curdie!” she gasped, subconsciously trying to step forward, only for the goblin to hold her back. “Look out!”

“Froglip!” Curdie exclaimed, glaring at the goblin over Irene's shoulder.

“Don't you come one th'tep near her, or I'll wring her neck!” the goblin, evidently named Froglip, threatened her friend, tracing a claw up her chin before grabbing her neck. She screamed in fright as he shoved her towards the tunnel, while Curdie could only watch. “She'th mine now!” Froglip declared as Irene continued to snivel. “I'm taking her back with me!”

“No! Not down there!” Curdie exclaimed. “You won't stand a chance!”

“Oh yeah? You try th'topping me, Th'un-Boy!” The goblin continued to push her down the hole as she tried to look back at her friend.

“But the water!” he protested as Froglip, and Irene by proxy, shuffled down. “It's coming down the tunnel!”

Irene let out a whimper as she heard roaring from where they were going. But it didn't sound like an animal, or crowd of humans or goblins. It sounded like a waterfall.

“Ugh,” Froglip scoffed. “You really don't think I'll be fooled by _that_ old trick?” He laughed, and declared proudly, “I'm not th'tupid!”

Irene had glanced one last time at Curdie. And when she and Froglip looked forward, they both screamed in fright; she could feel him grab at her shoulder.

Water was rushing towards them, encasing the whole tunnel. Irene's vision turned foamy blue-green as she felt herself get swept away. Then, everything faded to black.

* * *

Irene's eyes popped open with a throaty gasp. But she didn't see rocky walls, or even water. She saw red velvet curtains, and the edge of her own bed. Right in front of her own nose were light-pink sheets, balled up in her fists.

“Ohh, I was dreaming,” she sighed with relief. That horrible day had happened ten years prior, and she was safe, with only nightmares to remind her of what had happened.


	2. Chapter 1 -- Betrothal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Irene sat up, pushed her blankets down onto her lap, and stretched her arms out. Yawning, she finger-combed her long, golden-orange hair, which had become rumpled and tangled during her sleep, and rubbed at her teal-colored eyes. She jumped when she heard someone knock at her door and enter her room. “Your Highness, are you awake?” a soft voice called out.

She sighed with relief when she recognized the voice. “Yes, Angelica,” she answered.

Red-gloved hands began parting all of the bed curtains. Said gloved hands belonged to Irene's handmaiden, Angelica. Several years after the goblins had attacked, when Irene was thirteen, her nurse, Lootie, retired after having helped raise her from when she was a baby. Mere days afterwards, Angelica was hired. More accurately, her family had practically forced her into service, almost longing to be rid of her. Irene felt sorry for the girl, and allowed her into service.

Though she was very loyal and hard-working, Angelica was also somewhat strange. Everyday, without fail, including today, she wore her aforementioned red gloves, and a red veil that covered everything on her head, save for her face. Her skin was slightly-tanned, a leftover sign of her previous, more humble life, she had light-brown eyes, the whites of which appeared to have a tinge of yellow in the right light, and tufts of straw-colored hair sometimes poked out of her veil.

In addition to being loyal and hard-working, she seemed to like to be on her own most of the time, and almost seemed to fear Irene. When asked about it once, Angelica fervently denied it. But Irene was convinced; she rarely initiated conversation, was quiet and meek, and when there was mention of the goblins, Irene would see her wringing her hands or adjusting her veil, looking nervous. She chalked it up to her being afraid of goblins. But when she tried to comfort her with either holding her hand, laying a hand on her shoulder, or even a kind word, Angelica would freeze and mumble some sort of reply.

Today, she was dressed in her usual clothing: a simple orange dress that fell down to her feet, and her usual red gloves and veil. She also wore red shoes and hose.

Irene briefly shielded her eyes as Angelica parted the curtains and opened the windows, letting in the fresh air. Her room had barely changed in the past ten years, aside from the absence of child toys in exchange for books. When she wasn't attending her lessons, or sneaking outside, she would often sit in her room, with her faithful cat, Turnip, at her feet, and with an open book in her hands. Her father had told her that a well-educated woman, who knew how to read, was a powerful and wise woman.

“Excuse me for being so forward, Your Highness,” Angelica said softly, folding her hands in front of her stomach, “but I urge you to prepare for the day, and quickly.”

Irene nearly kindly admonished Angelica for being so meek, and for being so careful about calling her “Your Highness”, as she often did, but the rest of her sentence made her forget her words.

At her confused expression, her handmaiden asked, “Do you not remember, Your Highness? Today is your betrothal ceremony.”

The past few weeks came flashing back to Irene. Her father had left on what he called important business. When he returned, he told her he had spoken with the counsel in a different kingdom, and they had agreed to a betrothal between her and their king.

She hadn't known quite what to think of the situation. She was disappointed that she couldn't even meet her future husband, and was very nervous about marrying him without knowing him. But her father assured her that there would be a betrothal ceremony where she would meet and get to know him. This made her feel a little better, but she was still apprehensive about everything.

“Ah, yes, I remember now,” she nodded. “Thank you, Angelica. Will you help me prepare?”

“Certainly, Your Highness.”

Irene removed her light-pink nightgown, and Angelica helped her into suitable clothing for such an occasion: a pink and dark-pink gown. The main body and skirt were pink, her elbow-length sleeves ended with dark-pink ruffled cuffs, with matching wrapped shoulders and bustle. Under the front of the bustle was a darker-pink triangle-shaped fabric. Under the dress was a white petticoat, dark-pink pumps, and pink hose.

As she sat down, and Angelica began to brush her hair, her father, Jamison, stepped in. He had hardly changed during the previous ten years, save for some gray in his long red hair and full beard. He wore a red doublet, with a brown belt around the middle, and a round green gem on a golden necklace over it. On his legs were pale hose and red flats, and over it all was a red cloak trimmed with white fur.* “Good morning, my child,” he smiled, holding a hand behind his back.

“And to you, Father,” Irene answered, not moving her head as to not disturb Angelica.

“Are you excited for today?”

“To be quite honest, Father... I'm quite nervous. I don't know him, and I'm sure he doesn't know about me.”

“That is what today is for,” Jamison said, laying a hand on her arm. “I wouldn't marry you off to someone you didn't know. Everything will be all right. Now then, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Yes,” he nodded, presenting the arm that was behind his back. It was a small, pretty box. It was made of shiny brown-red wood, and had their sigil engraved on the lid: two pigeons facing each other, with opened wings, under a crown.* He set it on the vanity in front of his daughter.

As Angelica began to style her hair, Irene opened the box, and gasped softly at what was inside: it was a gold-chain necklace, with two flat pieces of gold in the shape of pigeons in flight, each half the size of her fist. Between the pigeons, and seemingly being held by their bills, was a rose-shaped gem, double the size of her thumbnail, and was red-orange with gold specks.*

“Father... it's beautiful!” Irene whispered.

“It was your mother's,” he said softly. “She would have wanted you to have it on this special day.”

Irene never knew much about her mother. She, of course, had seen paintings of her, and heard stories of her. She had pale skin, blonde hair, and green eyes. She often wished she knew her, but was grateful that her father could tell her about her all the same.

“Would you like me to put it on, Your Highness?” Angelica asked.

“Yes please, Angelica,” Irene nodded. She lifted the necklace out of the box and handed it to her handmaiden.

She draped it around Irene's neck so the rose and pigeons rested just above her breasts, and clasped it around her neck. The princess smiled at her reflection. Some of her hair was pulled around and pinned to the back of her head, while the rest flowed down her back, and a few strands of hair hung and framed her face. “My hair looks lovely, Angelica. Thank you.”

“I agree,” Jamison added. “You did a remarkable job.”

“Th-thank you,” she blushed, wringing her hands.

Irene stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “When shall they be arriving?” she asked her father.

“In a few hours, perhaps,” he said, leading her out of her room and towards the main hall. “At least after breakfast.”

* * *

 Indeed, after breakfast, a messenger stepped into the main hall. “Announcing His Majesty, King Aldrich!”

An older man stepped into the main hall, flanked by a few knights. They were dressed in armor, and on the front of their purple cloth shirts was evidently their sigil: a white eye shape with a purple pupil in the middle.

Aldrich himself was nearly as tall as Jamison, had pale skin, bored-looking amber eyes under scruffy eyebrows, and his long gray-streaked dirty blonde hair was tied in the back, save for several loose ends. His mustache curled under his broad hooked nose and joined with his beard, which covered his chin and traveled up his squared jaws and almost up to his ears.

He wore a blue-violet doublet trimmed with muddy orange, and fastened with golden buttons and a brown belt with a gold buckle. His baggy pants ended above his knees, and were mauve in color. His hose and scarf, which fell over the front of his doublet, were muddy orange, and he had dark-brown silver-buckled shoes. He also wore a large mauve hat with a gray feather tipped with black.

“Welcome, Aldrich,” Jamison greeted, rising from his throne. “It's so nice of you to come.”

“Thank you, Jamison,” Aldrich nodded. He had a husky voice, as though he had a bad coughing fit in the past, and it had left his voice scarred.

Jamison gestured for Irene to come closer. She stood up, brushed her skirt, and approached the two men. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Aldrich,” she greeted, curtsying and holding out her hand, as she had been taught.

“And I you, Princess Irene,” he finally smiled, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “You are even lovelier than your father told me.”

“Thank you,” she simpered, feeling her cheeks heat up slightly. _At least he's polite and charming._

More and more guests began to arrive. Irene froze when she saw a familiar face. “Curdie!” she cried out happily, lifting her skirt to run to him.

Curdie was no longer the scrawny twelve-year-old miner-boy she knew ten years prior when she herself was eight years old. He was now much taller, and more muscled. His scruffy red-orange hair was chin length, he had a slight bit of fuzz on his chin and jaws, and his broad, button nose looked as though it had been broken once or twice. He wore a brown long-sleeved shirt, a darker-brown short-sleeved jacket that was held together with a belt, tan hose, brown-green pants that ended a little past his knees, and brown shoes. Around his head was a blue headband, similar to the one he wore years before.

Some things hadn't changed, though. He still worked in the mines, though he was able to do more than take rocks to the carts. His brown eyes were still kind, and when he was able to visit Irene out in the meadow, he would always whistle that tune that helped save them from the goblins all those years ago.

Though they were very close friends, and people would wonder if they would end up together, it wasn't to be. They were too different in social statuses, and as they grew, their feelings for each other didn't grow into romantic feelings. But they were content with staying close friends. Irene had been happy that her father had allowed them to still see each other. He often said he owed Curdie so much for saving them, but Irene knew Jamison liked Curdie too.

“Good morning, Irene,” Curdie grinned, bowing at the waist. His voice had deepened considerably, though not quite as much as his father's. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Who is this peasant, and why is he allowed near the princess?” Aldrich sniffed, standing just behind Irene's shoulder.

She turned back to him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “He is a dear friend, and is allowed to be here!” she countered.

“Indeed,” Jamison chuckled, clapping his hands on Aldrich and Curdie's shoulders, “he is an absolutely welcome guest. He helped drive away the goblins many years ago when they invaded our castle and tried to take my daughter away.”

Some of the guards standing about nodded and voiced their agreements. Curdie had become well-acquainted with them, and they often invited him to join in their ranks, though he politely declined each time. “He knew how to fight back against them. He was a tremendous help,” one of the men remarked.

“Hrmm,” Aldrich grumbled, looking down past his nose at Curdie—he was a few inches taller than him. But Curdie didn't break. He crossed his arms and met his gaze head on. “Well then, I suppose you have a right to be here. However, once Irene and I are married, _I'll_ be able to protect her from these goblins! Those foul creatures shan't come near the castle, or you, my dear!” he said proudly, patting at a knife attached to his belt.

Irene didn't quite know how to respond, so she simply smiled and let out a chuckle. When Curdie quirked an eyebrow at her, she shrugged slightly.

* * *

 Once all of the guests had arrived, Jamison called for the chaplain to come and initiate the betrothal. He announced the future union of Princess Irene of Porumbel, and King Aldrich of Acreditam.* They exchanged vows that they would marry, and unite the two kingdoms, and Aldrich slipped a ring on the ring finger of Irene's right hand. It resembled two hands clasped together, and was made of silver.

As Aldrich and Jamison discussed the terms of the betrothal, Irene wandered away, looking for Curdie. She saw him speaking with the knights and guards he had befriended ten years prior during the battle against the goblins. She waited patiently until he excused himself and joined her. “So... how are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she nodded. “I'm,” she stammered, rubbing her arm. “I'm still having nightmares of that morning.”

“I've been having bad dreams too,” Curdie nodded solemnly. “But I know you must have it worse, considering... Well, anyway, how is Aldrich so far? Is this the first time you met him?”

“Yes,” she nodded, glad for the change of subject. “But he seems... nice, so far.”

“He seems like he's at least willing to protect you. That's good, at least. But I would have thought he was already married.”

“I did too,” she nodded. “Apparently he _was_ married previously, but his wife passed away, and he was left without providing an heir. No offense to him, but I'm willing to bet he's never encountered a goblin before.”

“He would probably get the fright of his life if he encountered Froglip,” Curdie chuckled.

Irene laughed as well, though she felt a shiver when that particular goblin was mentioned. “Speaking of, have you seen any goblins?” she asked.

His amused expression turned into a serious one. “Not really, no. I mean, I sometimes hear them skittering about in the mines, when there wasn't other noise. And sometimes there are shadows, and miners claim to see glimpses of them. But they seem to be avoiding us.”

“And you haven't seen Froglip?”

“Not at all. If the miners or I hear the goblins talking, they don't even mention him. Though I can barely make out what they say in the first place.”

Despite still fearing him, Irene couldn't help but wonder where Froglip was, and what he was thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to try something I saw in one of Detouredbe's stories (one of the Great Mouse Detective ones) where they would put an asterisk after a certain sentence, and at the end of the chapter, they would explain notes about that particular part.
> 
> * This is was the outfit the king had during the battle against the goblins. Also, he isn't named in either movie or book; that's my own contribution.
> 
> * The sigil was seen above the fireplace during the scene where Irene tells her father about meeting her Grandmother-Irene.
> 
> * Goldstone, which looks so pretty :3
> 
> * I took some inspiration from Game of Thrones for their "surnames". Irene's house (I guess you could say) is simply "pigeon" in Romanian, since Grandmother-Irene, either Irene's father/mother's great-grandmother, is symbolized by pigeons (I thought they were doves when I was little) Aldrich's is "believe" in Portuguese. You'll see what that means much later on.


	3. Chapter 2 -- Banishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

There was a very good reason that the goblins had been rarely seen for the past ten years. After their failure to drown the miners and kidnap the princess, and falling down the waterfall they had unintentionally created, the surviving goblins retreated to their village deep in the mountain. Luckily, the way they had created the water-dam prevented their own home from being flooded.*

Because the Sun-People knew their weaknesses, and thus how to effectively fight back, the king and queen of the goblins, Dolomite and Suevite* respectively, announced that they were to stay away from Sun-People at all costs until they found a way to fight back against them. But until that day could come, they could not come into contact with the Sun-People.

Not that the goblins had any objections to the decree. They had all become terrified of the Sun-People, since they had fought back so powerfully once they realized what hurt them. And they knew if they attacked again, they would fight back just as hard, if not harder. They might even become inclined to kill them as well. And that scared them even more.

Well, except for one goblin.

Froglip had been humiliated upon being beaten by not only the Sun-Boy, but the Sun-Princess, as well, before being kicked down the waterfall. He had fully expected his mother to coddle him and coo to him that everything would be all right, and that they would try again later.

He had been extremely surprised and angered when Suevite had decreed that the goblins would stay away from the Sun-People indefinitely, if not forever. When he spoke against it, by yelling about how they had to exact revenge against the Sun-People, she turned on him, stating that she was very disappointed in his failure to kidnap the princess. She was also disappointed because the plot to flood the miners' tunnels was his idea, and that had failed as well.* This turned into a shouting match between the queen and prince, which was quite a spectacle for all to see. It took a turn when she snarled that it had been his chance to prove that he could be a good leader and king, but he had utterly failed, even saying he was just like Dolomite: weak and incompetent.

Froglip had been outraged at the insult, which further escalated the fight between mother and son, until Suevite screamed “Silence!” at the top of her lungs, startling everyone, even Froglip. She then did the unthinkable: she banished her own son, who she had treated with such love and devotion, from the kingdom and village until she decided when he had learned his lesson and would make a good leader and king.

Everyone had gasped and gaped in astonishment. Dolomite timidly asked if this was necessary, but Suevite ignored him as if he hadn't said a thing at all. Froglip pitched a fit, stomping his feet, pulling at his hair, and screaming, all while two of the strongest goblins strong-armed him to the ground. After about an hour of this, he had almost passed out from exhaustion, and was stood up to fully hear his punishment.

He was to be taken to a cave on the surface, and would stay until it was determined that he learned his lesson. When he had snarkily asked how long it would take, Suevite coolly replied, “If it takes ten years.” She also stated it was far past time he learned to take care of himself; “take care of himself” meaning learning to hunt for his own food and defend himself with weapons, and that he could do this on the surface.*

Froglip had been upset, to say the least, about this punishment, snapping that he knew all of this, and that it would be a waste of time, when they could be thinking of ways to get back at the Sun-People. He even accused Suevite of treating him like a Sun-Person.

The court fell utterly silent at this, and all of the goblins stared in astonishment and fear at what he said. The next thing Froglip knew, his own mother had slapped him across the face so hard, his head nearly spun around so he was looking behind himself, and he would have fallen had the goblins not been still holding his arms tightly. She screamed at him, angered that he had dared to accuse her of that, and began charging at him. The goblins let him go, and he barely had time to turn around and run clear out of the village. Had someone asked him how he felt during that moment, he would have brushed it off. But truthfully, he never felt more scared in his life, especially of his own mother.

The two goblins that held him found him and led him to a cave that was near one of the entrances to goblin territory. They also told him that Suevite forbid the goblins from contacting him in any way, and reiterated that he would learn his lesson, even if it took ten years. Froglip simply huffed like a toddler, sat in the cave in a hunch away from the goblins, and crossed his arms.

He never quite knew if Suevite meant what she said about keeping him in banishment for ten years, but he stayed up there, not to keep learning his lesson, but out of childish spite. She did, however, let up on the contact ban after a while, and allowed a goblin called Glump to report back to them about how he was doing, and vise versa. Glump was a golden-brown wide-set goblin with a pig-like face, a round, bulbous nose, and greenish-brown claws. His hair was reddish-brown, and it fell in front of his ears and was tied at the tips of his hair, and he had a bald spot on the top of his head. He wore long dirt-brown pants with a dark-red belt with a silver buckle.

Glump was somewhat of a right-hand-man for Dolomite—which, in Suevite's mind, wasn't saying much at all—and would announce messages from him, and help with physical tasks, being a very strong goblin. His friend, Mump, a skinny cream-colored goblin with a brown muzzle, black hair, and yellow-green pants had been one of the several goblins that had drowned, leaving him somewhat depressed.* Dolomite telling him he was to be a messenger between themselves and Froglip gave him something new and more to do, and he eagerly agreed to the job.

Froglip didn't make it very easy though. He was very irritated at having someone go back and forth just to relay information about the village and kingdom to him. He often muttered insults at his parents, asking if they hated him so much that they couldn't speak directly to him. And if Glump stayed longer than he liked, he would chase him away from his home, growling like a wild animal.

His time on his own changed him. He was no longer waited on hand and foot, and had to go get his own food. He wasn't used to doing such things on his own, and was upset about it all. He often grumbled to himself about it while he hunted, which caused his prey to run away and leave him with an empty stomach at the end of the day. The first several months, he didn't touch the berries that littered the forest around him, calling it Sun-People food, or even the bugs and grubs he once liked so much. But eventually, when he was still learning how to hunt, he found himself snacking on the fruit and slurping up worms. It wasn't as good as fresh meat, but he learned to have some on hand in case he couldn't find other food.

The first time he managed to catch something, which had been a rabbit that looked like it had escaped a previous predator, and thus was slower, he gorged on the whole thing, bones, fur and all, and had made himself sick from eating everything and eating too fast. If anything, he quickly learned not to eat so fast, and even to store some away for later.

He crafted a spear—one thing he was taught in his youth that was related to hunting—from a long piece of wood and a rock that was chipped into a sharp point, both of which were tied together with fibers. This became somewhat his signature weapon, and he used it for many of his tasks, including hunting, slicing pieces of meat off of his catch, and fighting against various predators that attacked him, such as bears and wolves.

Even if he hadn't noticed it, his childish behavior had gradually disappeared. He was still overly dramatic, but he no longer threw tantrums when things didn't go his way, stopped sulking in his cave feeling sorry for himsel, and slowly stopped chasing Glump away when he “overstayed his welcome”. Years from then on, he would look back and actually appreciate that Glump still came to him to relay information to him, and even try to make small talk, even if he didn't like it at the time. It kept him, at least, a little sane.*

He was still angry at his parents, however. He thought it was unfair that he had such a strong punishment, and that it had gone on for so long. He had definitely become embarrassed at his failure to drown the miners and kidnap the princess, but he started to feel against going back home. It eventually came to a point where he actually enjoyed being on his own, and decided, both internally and outwardly to Glump, that he would stay on the surface and away from the kingdom. Glump had been utterly surprised at the revelation, being struck silent, and left early that day. When he returned, he told Froglip that his parents were willing to let him return home, but he wouldn't hear of it.

Ten years after the start of his banishment, Froglip still harbored hatred for Sun-People. Even if he wasn't the prince any longer, in his mind, he still thought of revenge plots against them, even if only to entertain himself. Even if he adamantly denied it, he was afraid of them, since they knew both goblin weaknesses, and would definitely use them should he attack, whether alone or not. He didn't tell Glump these thoughts, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that was what he was thinking. Especially with the way he would insult them.

The same day that Irene was attending her own betrothal ceremony, Froglip was eyeing a deer he had spent most of the day tracking. He clutched his spear in his right hand, and stared at the animal as it bent its head down to graze, ears and tail twitching. He kept his breathing low and long, and remained loose and limber in case it either bolted or charged at him—he had been very surprised when the latter happened one time. He swore he had a scar in his nose from that deer's antler.

When the deer lifted its head to look around, he froze, stopped breathing even, and bent his ears down to try and hide them. Several tense seconds passed, and the deer continued to eat. Froglip pulled the spear back, aimed, and threw it as hard as he could. It passed through the deer's long, slender neck, and when it fell to the ground, kicking and squealing, he pounced on it and broke its neck, killing it instantly. He pulled the spear out of its neck, slung the deer over his shoulders, and started for his cave.

As soon as he stepped in, Glump appeared at the mouth of his home. “A-afternoon, Your Highness!” he greeted breathlessly.

“I told you not to call me that,” Froglip muttered, laying the deer on its side on a large slab of stone, and sliced into its belly with the spear.

Swallowing thickly and drumming his fingers nervously, Glump said, “Erm, your ten-year-long b-banishment is almost up. So, in a few days, you can go home-”

Froglip thrust the pointed end of his spear into the dirt just in front of the shorter goblin. His eyes followed the spear moving back and forth slightly with a frightened expression. “I've told you time and time again, and I'm sure you've told my parents, that I'm _not_ going home!” he snapped. His lisp had lessened over the years until it was only a soft one, with significantly less spit flung about. But when he was speaking fast, or very angry, it returned briefly.*

“Wh-why not?”

“I've told you, again, over and over, I like it alone,” he answered, sharply returning to his deer, and began to pull the skin off. He had learned that it required steady pulls to effectively pull it off, but in his frustration, he was tugging it sharply, causing it to tear and have holes. “I have my own rules, and I can do whatever I want without my beloved _mother_ breathing down my neck, and my father sniveling at my side.”

Glump scratched the back of his head, clutched at the spear with one hand, and said in a surprisingly soft voice, “Froglip, your parents... they miss you. Your mother especially.”

Froglip paused skinning his deer, but didn't turn around. Instead, he scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

“No, they do! And they're proud of how you've progressed. They're willing to welcome you back when your ten years are up.”

“... Are they?” he asked doubtingly. “And will the rest of the kingdom?”

“Wh-what?”

“Glump, you know as well as I that I failed. I utterly, completely, and embarrassingly failed at not one, but two plots against the Sun-People. I shamed my people, and made us a laughing stock against our enemy. Sure, my parents say I'll be welcomed with open arms, but will I really? And will the kingdom willingly welcome me, or will I be hissed and spat at as I walk about our village? No,” he shook his head with a scowl, “this place, this is my home.”

“But, you're a prince!”

“... Not anymore,” he said solemnly, grabbing his spear. He began slicing the limbs and head off of the deer.

Glump thought about changing the subject, but decided it would be wiser to leave. “I'll pass your thoughts along to your parents,” he said quietly as he exited the cave.

As his footsteps gradually disappeared, Froglip leaned against his hands on the stone slab, sighing heavily as the tips of his ears drooped. He stared down at the deer, picked up his spear again, and left the cave, not feeling very hungry anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The way the dam looked, it kept the water away from the village, and flowed away from it, so the village was nice and dry when they opened the floodgates, so to speak, even with the miners diverting the water.
> 
> * The king and queen didn't have names, so I gave them their own names. I did have different names for them in the past, but decided to change them. Dolomite is pronounced "doe-luh-mite", and Suevite is pronounced "sway-vite".
> 
> * I took some inspiration from my friend, Alu-In-Chains' PotG stories, in that Froglip's mother was disappointed in his failures. Also, I imagine even if she constantly spoiled him, she expected him to take care of himself once he was older, and became very frustrated when he failed this during the battle between goblins and humans.
> 
> * I don't imagine that Froglip was taught much about hunting or fighting, since he would be delivered food and be protected.
> 
> * Glump and Mump are the first goblins we meet in the movie (if you don't count Irene's incident in the forest) I needed a sort of adviser and secondary goblin character, and rather create one, I decided to use a "canon" one. Also, Glump being the king's second-in-command, so to speak, came from the fact that he was with the king during the attack on the castle, and it was him who announced that the king wanted the mines to be flooded.
> 
> * Obviously time by himself would change Froglip, but I'm willing to bet it would mature him, at least getting rid of his childish tendencies.
> 
> * I spoke with my other friend, RosesnWater/BreathOutofMe, and we both decided that with age, Froglip's lisp would become less spitty, though it would act up if he spoke fast and/or was angry. So, unless those times come up, I won't write his lisp, and will only occasionally reference it.


	4. Chapter 3 -- Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

As night came, the goblin village eventually fell silent. The candles in the house windows were blown out, one by one, and goblins of all ages climbed into their beds and fell asleep. Even Suevite and Dolomite retired for the night, frustrated and glum about Froglip's insistence on staying away from home. Suevite actually started to blame herself for being too hard on him, and lamented at the loss of her beloved son. Some goblins even whispered that she leaned on Dolomite when he tried to comfort her, but the others dismissed these rumors.

As the goblin territory fell silent, save for the occasional bug or tiny animal skittering about, or moisture dripping from the stalactites and ceiling, something entered the tunnels. It cast a large shadow in the dim lights, cast from glowworms and glowing crystals*, as it slunk through the rocky passages. If it sensed any movement, it would freeze until it determined it was safe to keep going.

As it snuck through the village and headed for the bedchambers of the royal family, there was a sound, almost like a short burst of wind, or someone inhaling sharply. The creature froze, and its head snapped towards where it heard it. Its eyes glowed sinisterly in the low light as it searched for the source of the sound, but it didn't see anything. Snorting, the creature continued to sneak past sleeping guard goblins into the royal bedchambers. It nudged its way through the stringed-stone curtain, ignoring the soft clinking sounds they made, and grinned, showing sharp, white teeth.

The canopy-style bed was made entirely of stone, with shapes and faces carved into it. Suevite and Dolomite were fast asleep in it, both covered by a large animal-skin rug. Suevite was a large, round, light-green goblin with light-pink hair that billowed behind her ears, pink claws, a small, flat nose, a wide pink mouth, and, unusually for a goblin, six toes on each of her feet. Her crown was small, cone-shaped, and made of stone, and she often wore a dark-teal dress lined with white fur, and pink, furry bloomers. Another unusual thing about her was that she wore stone shoes.

Dolomite, on the other hand, was a scrawny, pale goblin, much shorter than his wife, and had sad eyes like that of a hound dog, a bulbous pink noise that was almost always running, small pink ears, dark-brown claws, and had no hair save for the brown beard that ran from his ears to his chin. His crown was a large, round stone that was almost as big as himself, and he held a scepter with a large rock in his hand. He wore a dark-green loincloth, matching hose, and a cape made of the skin of a large badger.

Now they were sound asleep in their bed, unaware from the danger looming over them.

The shadowy creature slowly approached the bed, claws gently clicking against the stone floor, carefully climbed onto the bed, and stood over the two goblins. Its eyes glanced back and forth between them before focusing on Suevite, who was sleeping on her back. It bent its neck around and seemingly pulled something out of its side with its mouth: a broken piece of a spear, though not the crude stone and wood kind that goblins used; this one was still made of wood, but it had a spearhead made of metal.

The creature held the broken spear in its mouth, and pressed a heavy paw against Suevite's mouth. As she began to stir, the creature stabbed the spear into her throat. Her eyes flew open, she gurgled in pain under its paw, and thrashed about, stirring the blanket and bumping against her husband. But the creature continued to hold her down tightly, and she gradually died as blood leaked from the wound in her throat and trickled out the corners of her mouth.

As the creature pulled the spear out of Suevite's neck, causing blood to pour out faster, Dolomite began to awaken. He cried out in horror at the sight of his dead wife, and saw the culprit standing over him with a bloody broken spear. He opened his mouth to call for the guards, but the creature pressed its paw over his mouth as well. Dolomite grabbed at its arm, sinking his claws into its flesh and pulling at its black fur, all the while moaning loudly to try and get someone's attention.

But nobody came.

He eventually was able to push the paw off of his face, and inhaled to get his breath back and call for help. Growling, the shadowy creature smacked him across the face, knocking the breath out of him. It pushed its paw back on his face, sinking its claws into his flesh, and shoved the spear into his throat as well. Dolomite continued to clutch at the creature, but his thrashes and grabs became weaker and weaker, until his arms fell limp

Once it determined that the goblin was dead, the creature released his head, licked the blood off of its paws and leg, and snuck back out the way it came. As it exited the village, its large pointed ears twitched backwards at more sounds. It paused to grin as it heard the horrified screams of goblin guards.

* * *

 

Froglip sat at the mouth of his cave, sharpening his spear, and pausing every now and then to glance around and up. The sky had just melted from a pinkish-orange to a dark purple-blue; not quite night, but not day either. He could see a few clouds floating about, telling him it would be raining soon, and some stars began to shine. If he craned his neck just the right way, he could even see the moon.

Having been born and mainly raised in the mountains, he rarely ever saw the sky, much less the night sky. When he experienced it for the first time, he was still in too bitter of a mood to really look around. But after a while, and during the ten years after first living on the surface, he found it surreal at how still and quiet everything became. He also learned that even though it was dark, the moon still cast light, and he could still be seen, by both prey and predators, though not as easily as during the day. He felt very different when he hunted at night; he felt like a dangerous, sly predator, and that he was invincible, and could do anything.

Compared to the daytime, nighttime was very easy to get used to. The sun practically blinded him during the first few months, and he hated moving about during the daytime. It was especially annoying when the sun shone into his cave, waking him from a pleasant and deep sleep, but he was too lazy to make a curtain in order to block it out.

But he got used to the brightness of the daytime, and even found it had its advantages: more animals were awake at night, and thus meant more food for him. Plus, predators were more likely to hunt at night, thereby hunting during the day gave him an advantage over them.*

As he continued to sharpen his weapon, he was startled when he heard rustling in the grass. He immediately leapt to his feet and held his spear in a battle stance, growling in the direction of the sound. He relaxed, and sighed heavily, when he was it was Glump. “I didn't know I would have nightly visits as well,” he snorted.

His ears perked up when he realized Glump had been running heavily, something he didn't do when he visited him, and seemed frantic and terrified. “Well, get on with it!” he snapped as the brown goblin leaned on his knees and struggled to catch his breath. “What is it?!”

When he finally was able to speak, Glump gasped, “It-it's your... your parents!”

“Ugh, not this again,” Froglip grumbled, turning around quickly so his cape billowed behind him. “I thought you said you would tell them that I wan-”

“No, it's not... it's not that! They... they're...” he tugged at his hair nervously, glanced over his shoulder, gulped, and finally spat out, “they're dead!”

Froglip froze in his tracks, eyes widening. He felt as though his heart had stopped, and dread filled his entire being. “... What did you say?” he hissed, begging inwardly for it to be some cruel joke, or even a ploy to get him back home.

His hopes were dashed when Glump said again, “They're dead! Th-the-they were murdered! It was-it was the S-Sun-People! _They_ did it!”

He dropped his spear, spun around, and ran as fast as his long legs could carry him to the nearby tunnel. He brushed past Glump, causing him to spin around and fall on his back. He didn't hear his cries for him to wait as he thundered down the tunnel and into the village he had almost forgotten.

The village was empty, but as he approached the courtroom, he saw goblins standing about, looking horrified. The crowd was heaviest around the royal chambers, and he had to push and shove his way through. When they realized who it was, they gave him a wide berth, all looking nervous and mournful. No one said a word.

Soon, he finally got to the bedchambers, where the guards stood. He pushed past them, not listening to them as they told him to wait, and froze in the doorway.

Dolomite and Suevite lay silently and still in their bed as thought they were still asleep. But they both had wounds in their throats, were covered with blood, and their eyes were open and glassy.

Froglip fell to his knees in horror. The sounds around him melted into white noise as he stared at the bodies of his parents. He collapsed on his hands, almost falling on his face, and felt his stomach churn, threatening to resurface the deer he had eventually eaten earlier that day. He felt his whole body shake violently as though he had the chills, and he didn't realize he was crying until he saw the tears dripping over his round nose and onto the floor.

Scrubbing the tears away with the back of his hand, he looked around the room, adamantly avoiding looking at his parents again, lest he begin sobbing like a baby. His ears perked up when he saw, in a puddle of blood, a broken spear. He stood shakily to his feet and lifted the weapon. The spearhead was covered with blood, and was obviously the murder weapon. What stuck out to him was that it wasn't made of stone; it was metallic.

And there was only one species that used this kind of materiel for weapons.

“... obvious who did this!” he heard someone say behind him.

“The Sun-People!” another goblin agreed.

“Look at the weapon!”

“They humiliated us, wasn't that enough?”

“They're monsters!”

Froglip clutched the broken spear so tightly his fingers slowly turned white, and spun around so quickly that his ears nearly smacked him in the face. “Pre'thi'thely!” he spat, startling the other goblins as if they had forgotten he was there. “It _wa'th_ tho'the damn Th'un-People! Thi'th weapon!” He thrust out the spear, sending tiny droplets of blood flying. “Only _they_ have thi'th kind of weapon!” He stood still, drool dripping from his lips as he shook with not only grief, but anger. “You know what we muth't do! We muth't take... revenge! Far wor'the than ten year'th ago!” he declared, holding a finger up in emphasis.

To his shock and anger, none of the goblins roared in triumphant return. They glanced at each other nervously. “B-but, we were said to not approach them,” one goblin meekly reminded their former prince.

“And besides, th-they know how to fight back!” another added. “Who's to say they won't kill _us_ if we attack?”

The other goblins nodded in agreement.

Froglip's eye began to twitch. “Are you that daft that you don't th'ee that they killed _your_ king and queen?! _My parent'th?!_ You th'tupid in'thignificant, in'tholent coward'th!” he roared, spraying the goblins nearest to him with his spit. Tears were still running down his cheeks, but he either didn't notice or care. “Are you goblin'th or mi'the?! We are th'tronger than them! Have thicker head'th than them! We outnumber them!” Finally, with a deep growl, he snapped, “Fine! If you're all not going to do it... I will!” With that, he shoved his way through the crowd, stomping on as many goblin feet as he could in his wake. They tried to grab at his arms and cloak, but he tugged them away and pushed the goblins aside until he was clear out of the village and out into the open. Glump was gone—he had presumably returned when he wasn't looking—and so he was alone.

Once he was outside, and convinced no one had followed him, he collapsed on his knees, dropped the bloody spear he hadn't realized he still had, and buried his face in his hands, allowing himself to cry. Loud, heavy sobs were heard for miles, causing animals and the stray Sun-Person to turn their heads, wondering either what that sound was or who had been hurt.

Several minutes had passed, and Froglip was left with a wet face, a stuffy nose, itchy eyes, a headache, and a heavy heart. He wiped his face off with his cape and blew his nose in it. Sniffling, he turned to the castle, which he was able to see from his humble home. He could easily see that the lights were still on in the windows, and his sharp ears faintly picked up music, which caused his headache to worsen, and laughter.

An ugly glare appeared on his face. How dare they celebrate their victory over the goblins! Snarling deeply in his sore throat, he grabbed the spear again, stood to his feet, and began to stalk to the castle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I saw some crystals during the scene where Curdie is spying on Froglip and his parents as they talk (just before he's captured and trapped) Said crystals looked like they were glowing, so I decided the goblins used this as lighting, though it's the kind that can't be turned off.
> 
> *I decided that even though goblins will try and avoid the sun (this apparently didn't hinder them too much when they took over the castle during the morning) Froglip living ten years on the surface would render him used to sunlight.


	5. Chapter 4 -- Accusations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

The betrothal ceremony continued into the evening. Irene was informed that Aldrich would be staying until they were married—they estimated that it would take several days to prepare the wedding—along with the guards that accompanied him. Jamison told her this would be a perfect opportunity to get to know him better, especially in a not-so-public setting. She was pleased about this, but she didn't know if it would make her like him more.

It wasn't the fact that Aldrich was twice her age, or even that he was previously married. It was that he was a braggart, acted as though people below his class were lower than dirt in comparison to himself, and she had a feeling he wasn't as brave as he made himself out to be. She was less than impressed when he sneered at Curdie, and continued to give him dirty looks every now and again, even as the miner socialized with the guards and knights of her kingdom as though they were lifelong friends.

She told Aldrich all about when Curdie saved her in the woods ten years prior, and helped defend her home against the goblins, having more knowledge about them than the royal family. He simply nodded and stated once they were married, she wouldn't need him. “With our kingdoms united, you'll have far more friends, and you'll forget about that miner boy,” he added. “You'll be able to socialize with people of your class.”

Irene longed to tell him exactly what she thought of that and of him, but she held her tongue. It would do absolutely no good to make a scene, especially since she knew how hard Jamison worked to negotiate the union. With the attack by the goblins, it had made other kingdoms apprehensive about joining the two of them.

So, she simply clenched her fists and took several deep breaths in through her nose as he continued to brag about protecting her against any goblins that would come for her. “Why,” he laughed, “I would love to see that prince try anything!”

Suddenly, there was a loud scream and a throaty snarl. The crowd parted to reveal Prince Froglip himself, standing in the middle of the room. He was panting, as though he had been running through the tunnels to get to the castle, he was clenching his teeth angrily, and his eyes were red and watery, as though he had been crying. “You,” he hissed, pointing at Irene.

Aldrich let out a scream, making her jump, and backed away hurriedly. “What _is_ that thing?!” he exclaimed, patting himself in search of his knife.

“... _That_ is the goblin prince,” she answered dryly. _I knew he didn't know what he was talking about._

“How _dare_ you!” Froglip continued to growl, stalking towards her.

“Wh-what did I do?” she asked, beginning to shake with fright. The object of her nightmares, and her attempted kidnapper from ten years prior, was standing before her, and looked angry, to say the least.

“You know what you did!” he exclaimed, ignoring the guards as they snapped out of their shock and began running to him. “You killed them!”

“Killed who?” she asked.

“Do _not_ play dumb! My parent'th! You killed them in their own bed! You didn't even let them defend them'thelve'th!” As the guards grabbed his arms, he thrashed about and continued to scream, dropping something on the ground. Curdie stepped forward, ignoring the goblin as he was dragged back and away from Irene, growling all the way, and picked up the object. His eyes widened at the sight, but he didn't show it to anyone.

“What shall we do with him, Your Majesty?” one of the guards holding Froglip asked.

Jamison stared down at the goblin. He returned the look with a glare that looked like a combination of anger and grief. “... Take him to the dungeon,” he finally said. “We can figure out what to make of this in the morning.”

Irene turned to her father in surprise as the guards led—or rather dragged—Froglip to the dungeons. He fought the whole way, squirming and dragging his feet until they kicked him in the ankles, causing him to cry out in pain. “Father? Why did you simply send him to the dungeons”

“He claims we killed his parents-”

“But we didn't,” she protested. “You didn't give the command.”

“I know, my child,” he nodded. “But that is the trouble. Something, or someone, has killed the goblin king and queen. If what Froglip says is true, and it _was_ one of us, then we have someone among us who is dangerous. Do you understand?”

“I do, Father,” Irene nodded. If someone had killed the goblins without their king's permission, then who was to say they wouldn't rebel further, and become even more dangerous?

“But if he is mistaken, and someone _else_ did it, there is still someone out there who is dangerous.”

“Or possibly a dangerous animal.”

“Indeed,” Jamison nodded.

“But what evidence does he have that says _we_ did it? Unless he is purely blaming us because of what happened ten years ago.”

“I think it's this,” Curdie said, holding out what Froglip had dropped. It was a broken spear, covered in blood.

“That's one of ours!” one of the remaining knights exclaimed.

“He was holding it when he came in.”

Irene took the weapon in her hands, ignoring Aldrich protesting that she not touch it, and looked at it closely. It was indeed one of their own weapons. The base was made of wood, and the spearhead was metal. The blood that covered it was dark-red, like her own, and was still sticky, so she held it away from her dress. “Has everyone been accounted for?” she asked.

“All except one,” another of the knights said. “We couldn't find him, so we thought he was off-duty.”

“Search everywhere, inside and out,” Jamison commanded. “And when you _do_ find him, I want him questioned.”

“Yes sire,” the knights bowed as they left.

“Well, then, shall I show you to your room, Aldrich?” the older king asked as the crowd began to disperse.

“Yes, please do,” he nodded, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. “I fear I feel ill after seeing that repulsive creature! I shall surely have nightmares tonight!” Their conversation faded as they walked down the halls, followed by his own guards.

“I didn't know they were dead,” Curdie remarked, looking a little spooked.

“It must have happened recently,” Irene said. “Just before Froglip came in, perhaps? But I'm sure we, or at least one of us, didn't do it.”

“How do you explain the spear, though?” he pointed out, nodding at the spear she still held. “Unless whoever did it stole it?”

“Perhaps... perhaps they wish to frame us for the murder? After all, it's well-known that we had trouble with the goblins years before.”

“But do you have any enemies that would wish harm on you?”

“I don't know,” she shook her head. “But that is the only explanation I have... I'm sorry this day was ruined.”

“It's all right,” Curdie smiled. “It wasn't your fault. And this day was for you, not me. _I'm_ sorry your betrothed wasn't as brave as he made himself out to be.”

“Did you hear him scream?” she giggled. “He sounded like a pig ready for slaughter. But it _was_ rather ridiculous that you were braver against a whole fleet of goblins as a child than a man against one.”

“Well, in his defense, he didn't learn about and work next to them his whole life. I would wager this was his first time seeing a goblin. Remember you and _your_ kingdom didn't know about them years ago.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right. But this whole thing still troubles me. Whether Father or I are right, there's something out there that wishes to harm us.”

“What are you going to do?”

“... I don't know.”

* * *

 

Later that night, Angelica helped Irene out of her clothes and into a hot bath. “I'm so sorry your betrothal ceremony was ruined by that creature,” she sighed.

“It's quite all right,” Irene answered, lifting her hand out of the tub and watching the water drip from her fingertips and create ripples in the soapy bathwater. “If I may be honest, it actually made it more exciting.”

“Exciting?” Angelica asked, looking at the princess as though she had grown a second head.

“Yes. Aldrich seems like a gentleman, but he was rather... boring. Not to mention he had lied about protecting me from the goblins. If anything, he acted as though _he_ was the one needing protection. And he was acting so horrible to Curdie.” She glared angrily at the memory.

“Well, where he comes from, people of different classes do not mix-”

“Yes, but Curdie is my friend! And a hero! He does _not_ deserve to be treated like an animal!”

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Angelica said humbly, bowing her head and wringing her hands.

“No, _I'm_ sorry, Angelica,” Irene sighed, brushing some of her wet hair from her face. “I didn't mean to take out my anger on you.”

“I understand.” She stood behind her and began to wash her hair. “I-if I may, I'm quite surprised you kept that weapon.”

Irene glanced at the doorway leading to her room. She had wrapped the sticky spearhead in one of her spare handkerchiefs and placed it in a chest. “I'm still troubled about the murder of the goblin king and queen. It couldn't have been one of our own.”

“Did they find the missing guard?”

“... They did,” she whispered.

“... And?”

“... He was dead.”

“Dead?!” Angelica gasped, dropping Irene's hair. It fell into the water with a soapy splash. Muttering an apology, she continued to wash it, and gently ran a comb through it.

“He was near the woods, shoved under a fallen tree. He looked as though an animal had attacked him.”

“What about his armor?”

“He didn't have it on. He was probably off-duty, though I don't know what he might have been doing. They don't know when he was killed.”

“Was it a badger? Or a bear? Wolves?”

“They don't know. His spear was broken in half.”

“Well, that surely explains why the spear the goblin had was broken.”

“Indeed. So what I was thinking before was correct: someone has framed us.”

“Could it be possible that he still did it, and had crawled into the woods injured before dying?”

“Why would he wedge himself under a tree then?”

“... To hide himself, perhaps?”

Irene stared forward in thought. Angelica could be right in that a rebel guard had killed the goblin king and queen, was injured, and hid himself away to hide the crime. But it just didn't add up. She had overheard the guards speaking with her father about the find, saying that there had been evidence of an animal attack. There was black fur in the man's wounds, and his injuries looked like bite marks. She knew goblins only had hair similar to a human—or Sun-Person, as they called them—and attacked with weapons, not their own teeth. Not to mention, if she remembered correctly, they didn't have sharp enough teeth to do damage like that of an animal.

No, something else had killed that man, and someone else killed the goblin king and queen. She and her kingdom were innocent of the crime.

But then a thought came to mind: were the two murders connected? Did whatever kill the guard also kill the goblins? _But it was an animal that killed our guard. No animal is intelligent enough to use a weapon to kill. So why would it bring a broken spear along to kill them?_

“Your Highness?” Angelica's voice broke through her thoughts. “It is time to come out now.”

“Thank you, Angelica,” she said, climbing out of the tub and letting her help dry her off. She pulled on her pink nightgown and climbed into bed.

“Shall I fetch you a book, Your Highness?”

“Not tonight,” she shook her head as she pushed her legs under her many blankets. “I have too much to think about to concentrate on reading. You may be excused for the night.”

“Very well. Good night,” she curtsied. She pulled the drapes around the bed shut, and Irene could hear her footsteps exit the room, and the door shutting.

She snuggled down in bed and pulled the covers to her chin. Her mind was far too full to let her fall asleep, and she knew she wouldn't be able to until she figured out this mystery. Even if finding the guard had supposedly proven their innocence, it made things only more complicated. Had he been obviously killed by another man, it would have been easy to say it was the same man who killed the goblins. But the fact that he was killed by an animal made things more difficult. Perhaps the killer had a pet that killed the guard? That would explain the fur.

Irene realized something: it would be easier to think about it all if she knew more about the crime scene. And in order to learn more about it, she would have to speak to the only person available who saw it. She groaned uneasily, but found herself climbing out of bed, slipping her feet into her slippers, and pulling the wrapped spearhead out of the chest. She opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, carefully shut it behind her, and tiptoed down the hall.

Now all that was left to do was find where they were keeping him.

 


	6. Chapter 5 -- Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Irene snuck down the halls and out onto the ramparts until she found the dungeon. She shook her head with a sigh when she saw the guards were fast asleep. It worked in her favor right now, but any other time she would be sorely disappointed, to say the least.* At the moment, she snuck by them, nicked the keys from one of the guards, and peeked through the window in the door.

She could see Froglip sitting in the cell in the straw. He was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, and looked both angry and grievous.

Now that there were bars and a door* between them, Irene couldn't help but examine the goblin. He was just as she remembered: light-green skin, dark-pink hair, just as wild as it was years ago; dark green claws and ears, single-toed feet, a bulbous nose, and round yellow eyes. He was still tall and lanky, and wore his black and pink cape, skull-shaped pin, and dark-teal loincloth. What was different, however, was that his skin looked darker, even in the dim light of the moonlight seeping through the barred window, and he looked a bit more muscular.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly and carefully unlocked the door, pushed it open, tiptoed inside, and shut it behind her as quietly as she could.

Froglip's ears perked up at the unlocking sound, and he pulled a darker glare at the door. Instead of one of the guards, or even the Sun-King, to his surprise, he saw the Sun-Princess sneak in and close the door behind her. Her golden-orange hair was loose and fell to her waist, and she wore a light-pink nightgown that bunched lightly around her shoulders and fell halfway down her shins, and furry light-brown slippers. Around her wrist was a circle of keys, and she held something wrapped in a piece of cloth.

She turned to face him, looking a little nervous. Her round face had lost its baby fat and become slightly more angled, especially with her chin and cheekbones. Her whole body was more mature, making her look the picture of a young Sun-Woman. However, her round teal eyes still had the wonder and innocence of a child, yet some maturity that came with the past ten years. She wore a golden necklace, with pigeons and a rose, around her neck, a golden ring with a fire opal on the pointer finger on her left hand*, and a silver ring that resembled clasping hands on the ring finger of her right hand.

They stared at each other, mostly out of curiosity rather than hostility, until Froglip finally broke the silence, “What do you want?”

Irene blinked in surprise, took a deep breath, and said “I want to talk to you about your parents.”

He flinched at the mention of his parents, and glared at her. “There is _nothing_ to talk about,” he growled, turning away slightly. She noticed his lisp wasn't as heavy as it had been ten years before, or earlier that day.

“Well, _I_ have something to talk about,” she insisted, stepping closer to the bars. “And I am here to say that we are innocent.”

“Of course you would say that,” he scoffed.

“No, I mean it. We found one of our own, dead in the woods. The spearhead,” she shook the clothed object she had in her hand, “came from his spear.”

“So you found a dead Sun-Man, congratulations,” he said sarcastically, turning his head towards her. “How do you know he didn't die from his injuries against my parents?”

“He had black fur in his wounds. Do your parents have anything with black fur?”

“... No, but that doesn't mean anything.”

“Of course it does!” she exclaimed, freezing and looking back to make sure she wasn't heard. She didn't hear the outside guards awakening, or even speaking. In a quieter voice, she continued, “It means he was killed by something else. Probably whatever killed your parents. They took his spear and framed us.”

Froglip let out a chuckle. “You have quite the imagination, don't you, Sun-Princess? What kind of animal would be smart enough to do that?”

Irene scowled angrily, clenching her fists. She knew she was right, and had to make him believe her.

Before she could say anything else, something bumped into her, panting heavily. She looked to the side, and jumped in surprise; she barely had time to cover her mouth to not scream. It was a brown goblin with reddish-brown pigtails and dirt-colored pants. When he saw her, he gasped in shock, but managed to not make any sounds.

“Glump?!” Froglip exclaimed, while still being quiet. “What are _you_ doing here? And how did you know I was here?”

“I-I figured the Sun-P-People would lock you up,” he whispered nervously. "I was a-able to climb the-the walls, and I s-saw the Sun-Princess c-come in here." He wrung his hands and glanced at Irene several times as he spoke, looking very frightened. She was confused by this, until she remembered that her people had fought back against his and won. And they still knew how to fight against them. “And I h-have news about you-your parents' deaths.”

“What more can there be?” Froglip growled. “The Sun-People killed them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But we didn't!” Irene protested.

“She's right.”

Froglip's head whipped towards Glump so fast, his hair flew about. “What did you say?” he asked slowly.

Glump's face paled slightly, and he took a step back. “Th-the Sun-People didn't kill them.”

“Then why did you say they did?”

“B-b-because the re-real killer told me to.”

“You saw him?” Froglip jumped to his feet and gripped the bars tightly. “Who is it, Glump?! Tell me!”

“Shhh!” Irene hissed. “Someone will hear us, chase him away, and then we'll be back to where we started!” She turned to the brown goblin and asked gently, “Who killed the goblin king and queen, Glump?”

Glump glanced between the former goblin prince and the Sun-Princess; the former looked frantic and irritated, probably because he was taking so long in revealing the real murderer, and the latter appeared patient and nervous, since the murderer was probably something she was unaware of.

Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “It-it was... Dirtclaw.”

Irene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, having never heard of "Dirtclaw". When she turned to Froglip, his entire expression had changed: his eyes were wide, his jaw slack, and his ears bent down so low, they pointed to the ground.

He looked horrified.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

“Positive!”

“You saw him?! Did he have the scars on his shoulders?”

“Yes, he did!”

“Who is Dirtclaw?” Irene asked.

“He's a monster,” Froglip answered with a slight growl. He stood up and raised his arms dramatically as he continued, “He's a large wolf, with fur as black as night, red eyes as dark as the blood he drinks, and claws the color of the earth he walks upon. His body is covered in scars, and he has wings on his shoulders like that of a dragon.”

Irene quirked an eyebrow at the goblin's theatrics, and glanced at Glump questioningly. “It's true,” he nodded. “I've seen him, now and years before.”

Froglip blinked, as if a thought had come to mind. “If you saw him... and know what he did... why did you not tell me?!” he hissed angrily.

“B-because he told me not to.”

“... What?”

* * *

 

_Glump had been patrolling through the tunnels long after delivering Froglip's message to Suevite and Dolomite. He felt sorry for the queen and king, and decided he would try harder to get Froglip to come home._

_As he approached the village, he saw something in the shadows. He squinted his eyes, and gasped sharply at what he saw. When the creature froze and turned towards him, he covered his mouth and ducked behind a stalactite. He trembled in fear, knowing what he saw: it was Dirtclaw. He knew that wolf anywhere, especially with his wings and scars. What was he doing here? He hadn't been seen for over ten years._

_He heard Dirtclaw snort, and listened as his footsteps took him further into the village, claws clicking as he went. Gulping nervously, Glump followed after the wolf, quietly yet carefully, until he saw him duck into the stone palace._

_His eyes widened in realization at what Dirtclaw probably had planned. He ran into the palace, but found he was too late: Dirtclaw stood over Suevite, holding his paw over her mouth, and he had just shoved a broken spearhead into her throat. Glump stood still, shaking in fear, with  his hands pressed tightly against his mouth, until Dirtclaw moved to Dolomite. The brown goblin turned and ran until he was out of the palace and in the tunnels. He leaned on his knees and panted heavily, feeling scared, sick, and utter and complete guilt. He had never felt like a coward more than he did in that moment. His mind tried to rationalize that he wasn't a designated goblin guard, and so wasn't strong enough to fight back against the wolf. Not to mention he would have easily killed him._

_It didn't help him feel better._

_His ears perked up at the sound of screaming. His heart dropped when he realized Dirtclaw's crime had been discovered. When he turned around, he was practically nose-to-nose with the wolf. He jumped back with a small scream, and fell on the ground. Almost automatically, Dirtclaw pounced on him, one paw on his throat. “What did you see?” he growled._

“ _I... I...” Glump chocked, grasping at the wolf's leg._

_Snorting with a shake of his head, Dirtclaw moved his snout close to the goblin's ear and whispered, “If anyone asks, you are to tell those goblins that the Sun-People did this. It shouldn't be too hard to believe, but you are to tell them. Otherwise...” He clutched at Glump's throat, causing him to wheeze and his eyes to bulge. “Do I make myself clear?”_

_He nodded frantically. “Good. Oh, and should you see your dear prince, tell him the same. You may just survive if you do.” Stepping on his throat, the wolf slunk out of the tunnels, glancing back once, as if to emphasize what he was to do, and disappeared._

_Glump pushed himself up, coughing and gasping for breath, and felt at his throat. He didn't feel any cuts or blood, but it did feel very tender, and he knew it would bruise later. Once he fully caught his breath, he hurried back to the palace, already finding a large crowd. When he was asked if he saw anything, he stammered that he hadn't but was confident that it was the Sun-People that had done it. They took his nervous manner as him being shaken about the king and queen's death, and believed him; especially since it seemed logical that the Sun-People would do this. He turned and ran down and out the tunnel that would lead him to Froglip._

* * *

 

“I'm s-s-sorry, Your Highness,” Glump said, falling to his knees. The paw-shaped bruise was visible on his throat by now. “I couldn't stand the thought that that monster got away with it. I-I had to tell _someone_!”

Irene almost found it hard to believe that there was an animal like Dirtclaw that had wings, while not being a bird, and could speak. But, then again, she lived in a world of goblins, so it couldn't have been much of a stretch. And if Froglip believed Glump, it must have been so.

Froglip was still silent, processing what he had just been told. He was very angry that he had been lied to, and that Glump had let it all happen, but nothing could be done about it now. Now there was a monster on the loose, and who knew when he would strike again.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Glump and the Sun-Princess cried out in surprise, pointing at the window behind him; she dropped the object in her hand, cloth falling to reveal the spearhead. When he turned to look, his eyes widened.

There, through the bars of the window, stood a large black wolf with red eyes and a wide grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The guards in the movie didn't seem very competent; they let the Goblin Pets get right in, even when one of them jumped off of one of the guards' heads. Plus, other than the goblins, there doesn't seem to be a lot of trouble, so they're probably used to having easy guarding jobs, thus being able to catch a few extra Zs.
> 
> * The cell that Froglip's in was the one that Curdie was in when he was injured. There weren't any bars in there, just a door, but I decided to take artistic liberties on that front, since dungeons usually have bars (these ones are the criss-crossing kind, rather than the standard vertical ones)
> 
> * In the book, it was stated that Irene's ring had a fire opal on it. In the movie, she put it on her left index finger. I figured there was no need to change the placement; plus, Grandmother Irene was probably able to resize it as Irene grew up.


	7. Chapter 6 -- Dirtclaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> I decided to forgo the little notes at the end. Instead, I'll let people figure things out; if anyone is confused about something, just ask in a review, and I'll explain in the next chapter/in a note, depending on if you're a member or anonymous.

Irene, Froglip, and Glump stared in horror at the wolf, and it stared back at them. Its lips slowly closed, hiding its sharp teeth, and it walked across the window. They could hear its claws clicking along the stone floor as it moved around the tower outside. And there was another sound: a low, spine-chilling chuckle.

Glump turned and ran out of the dungeon as fast as his legs could carry him; in his haste, he had left the door wide open. As he ran past the sleeping guards, they jumped awake. When they saw him, they leapt to their feet and chased after him, holding their spears tightly. He ran along the ramparts before climbing down the wall, falling when he was over half-way down. But he picked himself back up and darted into the woods. The guards stared after him for a few seconds before running to alert the king.

Just as the guards had left the dungeon door, Dirtclaw rounded the corner. He chuckled at the sight of them chasing Glump, and slunk through the door and into the dungeon. He found the Sun-Princess and Froglip inside, the latter being behind bars. _This may make this trickier,_ he mused to himself. _But I at least have him where I want him._

Irene felt her breath leave her body and her heart freeze. Standing in the doorway was a huge wolf, large than any other she had seen, whether alive or a simple fur rug. Its fur was black, and its eyes were a dark hellish red, looking as though they were completely bloodshot. Its long claws were the color of dirt, as if it had walked through mud and hadn't washed its claws properly. And folded on its back and sides were two large leathery wings, making it resemble a furry dragon.

She could also see its aforementioned scars. There were three long ones running across its snout and the upper-right portion of its forehead, one down across its left eye, and a large X shape on each of its shoulders, slightly covered by the folded wings.

The sight of the creature sent shivers down Irene's spine, and she felt as small and helpless as she had ten years prior when the goblins attacked. Only this time, she was facing an enemy to both humans and goblins. Though she had been told that wolves were cowards, and tended to run instead of fight when faced with humans, this one wasn't running. It was looking for a fight, or even to kill.

She jumped when she heard growling. However, the wolf wasn't the one causing the sound. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Froglip glaring at the animal, and realized that he was the one growling. It was a low, guttural sound, and it made him appear more fearsome than he already appeared to her. “You monster,” he rumbled angrily. “Why did you do it, Dirtclaw?”

“Ah, so you _do_ remember me,” the wolf spoke with a grin, surprising Irene. She had heard Glump say several times that the wolf could speak, but it still surprised her when he did. His voice was deep, throaty, and his accent was similar to hers. “How flattering.”

“It won't be as flattering when when I—“

“When you what? You're locked behind bars,” Dirtclaw scoffed. He glanced at Irene with a puzzled expression, but ignored her otherwise. “But that can be an easy fix... at least, make it easy for me to fulfill my vengeance!” With a loud snarl, he charged deeper into the room and threw himself at the bars. As soon as he hit the ground, he stood on his hind legs and began bashing at the gate with his paws. He wasn't standing straight up, and he was already almost as tall as Froglip. And he looked incredibly strong.

Froglip jumped back against the wall, still growling at Dirtclaw. Irene ran out of the room with a frightened scream. She nearly ran back to her room, or at least to her father to warn him about the creature, but something stopped her. Even if Froglip was her enemy, she couldn't stomach the idea of leaving him alone with the wolf. If he succeeded in breaking open the cell, he would no doubt tear him to shreds. And who was to say he would stop there? Glump and Froglip both said he was dangerous and drank blood. Who was to say he wouldn't enjoy human blood?

Biting her lip nervously, she ran to the nearby guardroom, threw open the door, and grabbed the first weapon she saw: a small sword that was almost as long as her arm. She nearly dropped it, not realizing it was so heavy, gripped the handle in both hands, and ran back to the dungeon.

While she had been contemplating what to do, and grabbing a weapon, Dirtclaw continued to bash at the gate. Froglip looked around frantically, trying to find some way to escape. There was a window, but it was barred up, making it impossible for him to squeeze out. And he didn't have time to try and pry the bars apart or out. Even if it didn't have bars, he didn't think he could squeeze through. At the rate he was going, Dirtclaw would be able to knock the gate open at any second, and could easily grab and pull him back into the room.

He had no choice; he had to fight.

Soon, however, something caught his eye: the clothed object that the Sun-Princess had dropped. It was the spearhead he found in his parent's bedchamber, still covered in blood.

Glancing at Dirtclaw, he began inching around the perimeter of his cell, eyes on the spearhead. As soon as he was as close to it as he could be, he reached an arm through the bars. It was just barely out of his reach, and he had to stretch his arm and fingers as far as he could. He grunted as he pushed himself against the bars, and grumbled and pleaded under his breath. Finally, the tips of his claws brushed against it just enough that he could move it closer to him. He immediately grabbed it and pulled his arm back in through the bars.

Just as he had jumped to his feet, Dirtclaw had actually managed to get the cell gate open. He had bashed his full weight against it so much that it began to slowly warp the metal until, finally, the lock gave way, and the gate swung out. Once it was open, he charged at Froglip, drool flying from his lips and teeth.

The goblin ran to the side with a gasp. Dirtclaw managed to skid to a stop before crashing into the wall, and spun around to face the goblin. Froglip snarled at the wolf, though he wasn't quite as menacing-looking with only four teeth; the sounds he emitted made up for that.

Dirtclaw charged at him. Froglip moved his arm to swing the spearhead at him, but the wolf saw it coming and ducked. Froglip swung the spearhead through the air, stopping when his arm was in front of his chest. Then, he stood up slightly on his hind legs and grabbed Froglip's forearm in his jaws. The goblin cried out in pain as the wolf sunk his teeth into his flesh, dropped the spearhead, and grabbed the wolf's head to try and pry him off. While Dirtclaw had a hold of his arm, he swiped his paws at him, scratching his chest and stomach. He slammed his head against the wolf's, causing him to let his arm go and back away with a pained grunt.

Arm bleeding, Froglip turned to run out of the cell. However, just as he made it through the gate, he fell forward when Dirtclaw grabbed his cape in his mouth. He pulled back, while Froglip crawled forward, cradling his arm against his chest. When he felt the cape beginning to pull tight against his throat, he grabbed at it with his cradled hand, preparing to unpin it.

But there was a tearing sound, and Froglip fell onto his front with a gasp; behind him, he heard Dirtclaw fall back. He pushed himself up, groaning in pain from his arm being crushed between his body and the dirty floor, and rolled over. Dirtclaw was sitting on his haunches, looking a little dazed, and had a large piece of black and pink cloth in his mouth. The goblin's eyes widened when he realized the wolf had torn a piece of his cape, and it was that that save him from being choked.

Dirtclaw spat the piece of cloth out and charged again. Thinking quickly, Froglip rocked forward and pulled the cell door shut. Dirtclaw crashed into it, startling the goblin into falling backwards and causing his fingers to slip from the bars. Because the gate was so bent out of shape, it didn't stay shut, and it slowly swung back open. The wolf stood shakily to his feet and shook his head, growling in pain.

As he crawled backwards and away from the cell, Froglip's ears perked up at a sound behind him. It sounded like someone was running towards him, panting slightly. Looking over his shoulder, through the door leading into the dungeon, to his surprise, he saw the Sun-Princess returning, holding a sword with both hands. Catching his eye, she nodded with a determined expression. When he looked back at Dirtclaw, the wolf had pulled open the gate again and was running at him.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed a handful of straw and dirt and threw it at Dirtclaw's face. The wolf stumbled to a stop, groaning in pain, shook his head, and pawed at his eyes with his left paw.

Irene took this opportunity to raise the sword above her head, aiming to cut the wolf's head off. However, as she brought the weapon down, she had misjudged the weight of the sword, as well as where she was aiming, and instead slammed the weapon on the his front right paw. Even if she had managed to hit his neck, there wouldn't be enough strength behind it to behead him. At most, it would only slightly injure him through his thick fur. But the momentum was enough to slice deeply into the paw, surely almost hitting bone.

Dirtclaw cried out loudly in pain, pulled his paw out from under the sword, and ran out of the dungeon. The sword was knocked out of the Sun-Princess's hands; having lost her weapon, she stumbled back against the wall as he ran out of the dungeon. Blood was spattered on the ground, and she and Froglip saw as the winged wolf took off shakily into the sky.

Irene and Froglip stayed where they were, against the wall and on the floor respectively, staring into nothing, silent aside from panting from fright and slight fatigue. She looked at the gate and gasped, having just realized Dirtclaw had succeeded in bashing it open. She staggered up to the gate and pulled it closed, paling when she realized the lock didn't reach the bars, and thus wouldn't work anymore, unless it could be somehow bent back into shape. When she released it, it slowly swung open.

It clicked in her mind at what Froglip and Glump meant about Dirtclaw: he was a monster. He wasn't the monster that hid under the bed or in the shadows, that could be chased away with a candlelight, or her father or nursemaid. He was a creature who was intelligent and strong. Animals, like wolves, were already dangerous enough, but he was bigger, stronger, and smarter than any animal she knew or seen that closely resembled him. She had known he was dangerous simply from hearing about him before encountering him, but she didn't know just how dangerous he was until she saw the damage he left.

She took a few steps back, exclaiming in fright when she bumped into something. She whipped around, and jumped back when she saw Froglip standing behind her, looking just as bewildered. He had a few scratches on him that were starting to swell slightly and redden, and there was blood smeared on his chest, but the worst of his injuries was his right forearm: it was covered in blood, dirt, and straw, and she could plainly see the deep bite wound in his flesh. She realized that the blood on his chest was from his arm, rather than the scratches.

Froglip wordlessly brushed past her, picked up the cloth that had been wrapped around the spearhead, sat down in his cell, and began to wipe his arm with the cloth, hissing and grunting in pain. The cloth, which was previously white, soaked up his red blood quickly, but it didn't clean off the dirt or straw very well. He tossed the cloth to the ground and began to pick the pieces of straw off of his arm with his claws.

Irene took a step back, and another, and finally turned and ran out of the dungeon back to her room. She hadn't realized that she neglected to close the dungeon door, or at least try to jam the cell gate shut.

 


	8. Chapter 7 -- Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Dirtclaw didn't fly very far. He was concentrating too much on the pain on his paw and eyes, and so fell on one of the ramparts in a heap. He untangled himself, shook himself off, sat on his haunches, and licked tenderly at his paw. The injury was very deep and bloody, and he could almost feel the bones in his paw aching. He couldn't set it on the ground without feeling like it was on fire, and he couldn't flex it at all without pain shooting up his leg.

While the dirt and straw in his eyes wasn't as painful of an injury as his sliced paw, they still hurt nonetheless. They watered heavily as he alternated licking his paw and shaking his head. If he was in grass, he would be rubbing his face into it. But once he could see somewhat clearly, he focused on the worst of his injuries.

"That damn goblin!" he growled, his own blood staining his fangs and fur. "Where did he get such a weapon! That pitiful spearhead couldn't have done that much damage! The next time I see him, I'll-!"

He heard a gasp to his right. Looking to the side, he saw a Sun-Man standing stock still, gaping at him in shock. His long hair and graying beard were dark-red, and he wore regal clothes.  _Ah, the king of the castle, I presume?_

"... What are you?" the Sun-King whispered.

Dirtclaw remained silent, and simply stared at him. The bleeding in his paw was beginning to slow, though he still couldn't put it on the ground, and his ears were perked up. "I heard you speak. I know you can understand me."

"... Indeed?" Dirtclaw quirked an eyebrow.

Jamison couldn't help but freeze at the sound of the wolf's voice. It was as if he still couldn't comprehend that the creature had spoke, despite hearing him speak moments before. "What are you?" he asked again. Mentally shaking his head, he asked what he perceived to be a better question, "What are you doing here?"

Dirtclaw's ears perked up at a realization. Here, standing before him, was the Sun-Person who was imprisoning Froglip. "That does not matter," he said as smoothly as he could with a still-throbbing paw, tail lightly thumping on the ground every now and again. "But give me the goblin, and I shall be on my way."

"Th-the goblin?"

"Precisely," he grinned. "The one you have imprisoned. Simply hand him over to me, and you shall never see me again."

"What would you want with him? He is  _our_  prisoner-"

"But he is  _mine_  to kill!" Dirtclaw growled. "Mine! Not yours!"

"Yours to kill?" Jamison muttered, confused. Then, something clicked in his mind, and his eyes widened. "... It was you."

Dirtclaw blinked as his ears flattened slightly, and he began to wonder if he had said too much. But regardless, he didn't answer.

"Irene was right. It wasn't one of us who killed the goblin king and queen... it was you. Why else would you so fervently wish to kill him? Why, I'm willing to wager that he was the one who injured you." He nodded at the wolf's injured paw. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be up here."

A growl rumbled in the place where Dirtclaw's chest met his throat, his ears stood straight up, and the fur on the back of his neck and shoulders began to rise. Even if it was a combination of a stroke of luck and his own loose lips, this Sun-King was clever. "Well done," he said sarcastically. "But who will believe that a wolf with wings was the true murderer? You would be thought of as a fool."

"Perhaps," Jamison nodded. "But that is neither here nor there."

"Indeed. Now then... the goblin?"

"... No."

A stupefied expression appeared on the wolf's face. Had he not been in such a dire situation, Jamison would have laughed at it. Despite the injured paw, he could tell this creature was dangerous. "... I beg your pardon?"

"I said 'no'. You will not be getting the goblin."

"But he is your enemy. Surely you would want him dead?"

"If I wished for him to be dead, I would have killed him myself the moment he burst into my castle, accusing me and my people of his parents' murder. I do not know why you killed them, or why you intend to do the same to him, but I won't allow it."

"You are making this far more difficult than it should be, Sun-King," Dirtclaw glowered, standing to his feet, though keeping his right paw up. His tail was stiff and parallel to the ground, his lips curled back to reveal his fangs, and all of the fur on his neck, shoulders, and back stood on end. "I will ask—no, I shall  _demand_  you: give. Me. The goblin!"

 _Sun-King? He speaks like a goblin... interesting._  "I shall stand my ground, Wolf," he scowled.

"... You are making a very... grave... mistake."

Jamison didn't answer. Instead, he reached for his sword, but paled at the realization that he didn't have it. Having not run into the goblins for the past ten years, barring earlier that night, and not having many enemies, he had taken to walking about the castle without any weapons. And he knew, without a doubt, that this mistake would cost him gravely.

Seeing the Sun-King's hesitation, Dirtclaw pounced with a snarl. Jamison fell backwards with a gasp, and the breath was knocked from him when the back of his head crashed onto the stone floor, and from the heavy weight on his chest. Because of all this, he couldn't scream for help before he felt fangs sink into his throat.

* * *

 

Irene ran until she was back to her room, crashing into someone in her haste. When she shook her head and looked, she realized it was Angelica. "Forgive me, Your Highness!" she exclaimed, pulling her veil tighter around her head. "I-I was merely ch-checking on you! I sincerely a-apologize for-"

"Angelica, it's all right," Irene soothed her, lying a hand on her shoulder. She ignored the young woman tensing under her touch and asked, "Do you have any bandages?"

"Bandages? Are you injured?!" Angelica exclaimed, looking over the princess.

"No, I'm fine. The bandages are... they're for the goblin, Froglip."

"Froglip? Whatever for?"

"He was injured. A wol... a creature attacked him."

"How do you know this? Were you... were you with him?" Her eyes widened in realization.

"That doesn't matter! He's badly injured! I need bandages, some water and vinegar, and maybe some mint poultice if you can find it."

"Your Highness... is he not your enemy? Why would you help him?"

Irene paused for a minute, pondering. Indeed, Froglip was her enemy. She could leave him to bleed out, or get in an infection should he survive that, and be done with the goblins forever. After all, the goblins seemed to be afraid of them, and would more than likely be even more fearful if their last royal leader died.

But as soon as she thought of that, her stomach churned uneasily, and she grimaced with a groan. Enemy or not, it didn't feel right at all to leave him injured. Especially since she had left him momentarily with that monster, and didn't properly attack him.

"Angelica, please," she pleaded. "I can't just leave him. It wouldn't... it doesn't feel right. I just need... I need them, please?"

Finally, Angelica sighed and asked, "How bad are his injuries?"

"He has a few scratches, but they weren't bleeding. The worst of it is his arm."

Nodding, Angelica turned and walked to the medical ward, where she grabbed a bundle of bandages, a bottle of vinegar, a large cloth, and a smaller bottle of mashed mint. She wrapped the cloth around the bundle, and returned to Irene with it and the bottles. "Clean his injuries with the vinegar, and spread the mint on his wounds before wrapping his arm. Will he need stitches?"

Thinking back to Froglip's bite, Irene realized that Dirtclaw's teeth were huge, leaving holes that were so big, she estimated that she could fit at least two fingers in them. And since it was covered in blood, she imagined the wound was big. "Yes, he will."

"Let us fetch your sewing kit then. What attacked him?"

Deciding not to lie, she answered solemnly, "A wolf."

"... A wolf?"

"A large one. It bit his arm."

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Angelica decided not to ask how a wolf could have gotten into the dungeon past the guards. Instead, she gathered a needle and spool of thread, and handed the bundle to the princess. "Do you... should I accompany you?"

"I think I will be all right... but maybe you should stand guard. The guards will be back any minute."

Angelica nodded and followed Irene as they returned to the dungeon. The girls were surprised and confused when the guards hadn't returned yet, but shrugged it off uneasily. Angelica remained outside after giving Irene the bottles, and sewing supplies, while the princess tiptoed back inside. Rather than stand facing away from the door, her handmaiden stood so she could look inside and outside with a turn of her head.

Froglip was still sitting in his cell, clutching his arm. The bleeding seemed to have slowed down, but she knew if it wasn't properly cleaned and dressed, it could get infected, especially with it being a bite. "... Froglip?" Irene whispered.

The goblin jumped in surprise, and stared at her with wide eyes, which narrowed suspiciously upon seeing the various objects in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to wrap your arm."

Froglip was silent and unable to come up with a retort, and his suspicious gaze turned to one of bafflement and astonishment. He didn't realize that Irene had knelt beside him, though still keeping a bit of distance between them, until she touched at his arm with the tips of her fingers. He tensed and pulled it away with a soft growl.

"It needs attention," she frowned. "Or do you wish for it to become infected?"

"I'll be fine."

"If it gets infected, you will get sick, and could die."

Froglip glared at her, and she returned it with one of her own, until he finally relaxed his injured arm. Nodding, Irene soaked the cloth with the vinegar, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell. "This will sting terribly, but it  _needs_  to be cleaned."

He simply grunted in reply, also recoiling slightly at the scent. She cupped one hand under his wrist, and carefully laid the cloth on his arm. He hissed in pain and gritted his teeth, but made no other indications that he was in pain aside from heavy panting. Glancing at him, she ran the cloth back and forth along his arm, applying pressure as she went. "Be careful!" he snapped.

"It must be done!" she scolded him.

Snorting, he clenched his fists and groaned under his breath as the vinegar continued to sting his arm. When she cleaned the top of his arm, she wrung out the reddened cloth, poured fresh vinegar on it, and lifted his arm to clean the underside.

Finally, his entire forearm had been cleaned—only for blood to slowly begin to leak out again—allowing Irene to see the wound clearly. The bite wasn't as large as she thought it was, but the holes left by the teeth were still big enough that she couldn't simply wrap his arm and be done. "They need stitches."

"Sun-Princess—" he snarled in warning, having had enough pain for the night.

"They won't heal properly otherwise!"

"Do you even know how to stitch a wound?"

She glanced back at Angelica as if to silently ask if she did. The young woman gave a small, nervous shake of her head—though Irene couldn't tell if she didn't know how to or if she didn't want to. Sighing, the princess answered, "It won't be pretty, but we'll have to manage." She ignored his exasperated huff as she dripped vinegar on the needle and thread, threaded the instrument, and began to sew. He grunted in pain and clenched his teeth at each stitch, but remained quiet regardless.

Once it was all done, and she had broke the thread, she broke the awkward silence with a watery smile, "The worst is over."

"Oh?" he asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes. We just need to put this on your wounds and—"

"What is it?"

"It's just a poultice of mint leaves," she explained, pulling out the rag from the bottle. "It smells better than the vinegar, and it will stave off the infection." She tapped a generous amount of the light-green paste into her hand and gently covered his wound with it.

Froglip grunted slightly, as the poultice irritated his stitched wounds slightly, and he still didn't like being touched by the Sun-Princess, but he silently agreed that the mint smelled far better than the vinegar. "How would you knew how to dress a wound? Don't you have servants to do that?"

"Do you think a servant would be willing to do this?"

"You're their princess. They would have to listen to you."

"Well, regardless, my father taught me. He told me a well-educated woman was a powerful and wise woman."

"Hmm," he hummed, watching as she began to wrap the long strips of cloth around his arm. He didn't admit it out loud, but the coolness of the mint poultice felt very nice against his injuries. "And if the guards discover this?"

"You could hide it with your cape. Speaking of which, would you like it if I fixed your cape?"

"... Um, I suppose so," he answered uneasily. "Why are you being so... courteous? You could have left me to die."

"I could have, yes," she nodded, tying off the bandages and fetching the piece of cloth. If she laid it out flat, it was big enough to be covered by her hands if her fingers were stretched and spread out. She sat on the other side of Froglip, lifted the corner of the cape where the piece was missing, and began to sew both pieces back together. "But I couldn't."

"You couldn't... or you wouldn't?"

"I couldn't and, eventually, wouldn't. After all, I left you with him and—"

"And did a sorry job of injuring him as well," he added distastefully. "I'll admit, though, you could have easily taken off his paw if you wished," he smirked.

"I hadn't used a sword before!" she defended, poking him defiantly with the needle. He jumped at the light jab and glared at her. "Besides, at least he's gone... but, there's something I don't understand: why is he after you?"

"How should I know?" he snorted.

"Because you obviously know each other," she answered, snapping the threat.

"Even so, I hadn't seen him in over ten years. Who knows what he was plotting all this time?" He lifted the fixed section of his cape and raised an eyebrow at her. "Not a very good job," he criticized.

"I'm not very good at sewing. And I suppose you could have done better?" She smirked when he didn't answer, and gave a defiant nod. "At any rate, at least it's fixed. You are welcome." She gathered her supplies and stood to her feet.

"And what about the gate?" he asked, readjusting his cape.

"Well, um... perhaps we could use some rope?" she offered.

"Don't ask  _me_ , I'm not here willingly."

"How  _will_  we explain the gate, Your Highness?" Angelica asked, still staring at the mentioned gate. "Did that wolf do that?"

"Yes, it did."

Her face paled. "How big was it?" she whispered.

"... Very big," she simply said, closing and locking the door behind her. Angelica gulped nervously as she followed Irene down the rampart until they had returned to her room.

Just as her handmaiden left to return the vinegar and mint, someone knocked on Irene's door. "Yes?" she called out.

A guard hurried in, looking very pale and upset. "Y-Your Highness! It's your father!"

 


	9. Chapter 8 -- Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Irene followed the guard as they ran to Jamison's chambers, clenching her fists in utter worry. The only information the guard had about her father was that he had been attacked, and that his condition was critical. "I'll be honest, he may not make it," he had said grimly. "He... his injuries were severe."

She had a heavy lump in her throat by the time they finally reached his door, and she could feel the tears begin to sting her eyes. How could this day go from mediocre to horrible? It was as if someone decided to curse her and her family.

The guard held out a hand as she went to open the door. "Now, I must warn you, his injuries are... well-"

"Do  _not_  stall me!" she snapped. "I have no time for warnings! Let me see my father!"

"Y-yes, Your Highness," he bowed and opened the door.

Jamison's bedroom was similar to her own, except bigger and grander-looking. His bed was huge—as a young child, she was sure it could fit three men, each the size of her father—with tall, thick posts standing at each corner, and glorious red and pink drapes, all of which were drawn. In one corner of the room was a big fireplace, which was currently blazing away, keeping the room very warm. All around the room were bookcases filled with books and scrolls, and on the wall opposite the bed was a large painted portrait of her mother, Katerina.

Irene gasped and froze as she stepped into the room, clasping a hand over her mouth. Her father lay in his bed, his quilt pulled up to just under his chest. He wore no shirt, displaying spattered gray hair across his chest, and the injury the guard had warned her about: his throat was wrapped in bandages, and was stained with blood. But not simply light-pink stains, like Froglip's wrapped arm; it was as red and dark as fresh blood. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell, and she could hear that his breathing was ragged. The castle physician and apothecary were in the room as well, gathering their supplies.

"... What happened?" she whispered behind her fingers.

"He was attacked," the physician said in his soft voice. "He was unconscious when he was found, so we can only imagine what happened."

"I'm telling you, it's those goblins!" the apothecary snapped.

"But the only goblin here is locked away."

"The guards who found the king said they saw a goblin run from the dungeon and into the woods. It  _must_  have been him!"

Irene barely heard the argument as she slowly approached her father's bed. She delicately ran the fingers on her free hand along the bed post, and felt her knees begin to shake. A million questions ran through her mind as tears made her vision grow blurry and she clenched her hand into a fist over her mouth.

"... Irene..."

Her hand dropped from her face when she heard her father rasp out her name. "Papa!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside the bed. "What happened? Who did this to you?" she whimpered, clasping a hold of one of his hands.

He clutched her hand and whispered, "You were... you were right. The goblin king and queen... we didn't do it."

"I know, Papa. I visited Froglip, and we realized the truth," she said, not caring if she would be in trouble. Now was not the time to think of that. "The wolf, he's... he is a monster!"

"He didn't... he didn't harm you... did he?"

"No," she shook her head, not knowing if he was talking about Dirtclaw or Froglip. "He didn't even touch me."

"Thank heavens," he sighed, holding a fist over his mouth as he coughed. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw his bandages darken with each cough.

"Do not strain yourself, Your Majesty," the physician urged.

Jamison waved him off and turned back to Irene. "My child... my sweet, brave child..." he cupped her cheek with his free hand, smiling painfully.

"Don't speak, Papa. You're going to be all right," she whispered, laying her own hand over his and nuzzling into his palm. "You'll be... you'll be fine," she whispered as she closed her eyes, though she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him, or herself.

"My beloved child... it seemed... it seemed only recent... that I thought I would... would lose you to the goblins. But now... I see that... we have a common enemy... Please, be safe, my dear."

"I will," she nodded, sniffling.

He finally smiled, though it looked pained and sad, as he gazed up at his beloved daughter. "I love you, Irene."  _I shall tell your mother everything you accomplished, and that it all made me so proud. And we will both watch over you, together..._

"And I love you, Papa." Her eyes snapped open when she felt his hand begin to fall limp. Becoming very frantic, and afraid, she looked at his face. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling serenely. But his chest no longer rose nor fell, and she couldn't hear his previously-ragged breathing. "... P-Papa?" she whimpered, letting go of his hand. It slid down her face and hung over the side of the bed. "Papa?!" she shook him, but he never reacted.

She shook her head as the tears continued to grow in her eyes. She barely noticed the gentle hands of the physician guiding her to her feet and away from the bed. "Papa, no!" she whispered, feeling her throat already start to ache.

"Let me walk you to your room, Irene," the physician said benevolently, guiding her out of the room. "I know it hurts. We will all grieve for him. We will take good care of him, I promise you."

She said nothing as they finally reached her room. She nodded at the physician, and walked numbly inside. Once she heard the door shut behind her, and the footsteps outside walk away, she ran for her bed, collapsed onto it, and began sobbing. At some point, Angelica had walked in and wordlessly helped her properly into bed, but left her alone regardless, leaving her to cry her heart out until she fell asleep, tears still trickling out of her shut eyes.

* * *

The following morning, Irene had to scrub the sleep and dried tears from her eyes before fully awakening. She lay in bed for a few more minutes, staring up at the top of her bed, letting her thoughts replay the previous night's events. Everything after her betrothal ceremony seemed so outlandish, it was almost as if she had dreamed sneaking out to speak with Froglip, encountering a monster she hadn't known existed, tending to her enemy's wounds after his fight against said monster, and losing her father to the very same monster.

It was Dirtclaw. Nothing would change her mind; he had murdered her father. He himself said that they and the goblins had a common enemy, and he didn't question her when she mentioned a wolf. But did anyone else know? If anyone, he would have told the guards that found him, or the physician and apothecary. However, deep down, she knew that they probably wouldn't have believed him. Goblins were already hard enough to believe in ten years prior; a large wolf with wings was harder enough to imagine existing. She didn't quite think he was real until she saw him with her own eyes. To them, it would have been the ramblings of a dying man.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts. "Y-Your Highness?"

Sighing softly, Irene sat up, smoothing down her hair. "Yes, Angelica?"

She heard her handmaiden walk into the room, and saw her draw the drapes. Unlike the previous morning, the sky was cloudy and sullen, as though the world was grieving the loss of her father. "Your Highness... I know I can never say anything to make it feel better... but I am truly sorry about your father," she said solemnly, folding her hands in front of her stomach. "He was a very good man."

Irene let her lips turn to a soft smile. "Thank you," she nodded. She slowly turned herself so her legs hung over the edge of her bed, and stood to her feet.

"The chaplain is preparing your father for his funeral."

"Does he need me?"

"No, he doesn't, Your Highness." The two women remained silent as Irene was prepared for the day. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, Angelica."

The meek handmaiden bowed and left the room, closing the door after her.

Irene sat down in a chair with a heavy sigh. Despite not wishing to think about it, her thoughts returned to the previous night; more specifically, to losing her father. Tears began to form in her eyes, but though she had just woken up, she felt too tired to cry any more. So, she simply sat in silence, eventually standing to take a book from one of her bookshelves, though she barely read it; all the while, tears silently fell down her cheeks, and her heart ached deep in her chest.

After a long while, she stood up and left her room. She didn't have a destination in mind, and so just walked down the halls. Various servants and guests expressed their condolences, or simply whispered among themselves. She nodded at the condolences, ignored the whispers, and continued to walk until she found herself outside in the court yard. She leaned against a wall and inhaled the fresh air deeply, and sighed heavily.

"Might I join you?"

She flinched at the sudden sound, but relaxed when she saw it was Aldrich. She simply nodded.

"Forgive me for intruding," he said softly, standing beside her. "You've probably heard this many times today, but I'm... well, I know how it feels to lose someone you love."

Irene remembered that his wife had died as well. "... If I may, how did she... how did  _she_  pass?"

She didn't need to specify; Aldrich knew who she was talking about. "She was ill," he answered. "It came so suddenly, and she was in pain. It was... it was a blessing when she died. Because I knew she wasn't suffering any longer."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, laying a hand on his arm.

Aldrich glance down at her with a soft smile. "Yes, well, at least in this case we can kill your father's murderer. I was unable to fight against the illness that took my wife. They won't hurt you any longer, my dear."

"'They'?" Irene quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why, the goblins, of course!"

"Wait a minute, what? What do the goblins have anything to do with my father's attack?"

"Irene, it's obvious that they killed him! Your people and they are enemies, and their prince accused you of murdering his parents. It's only obvious that they would retaliate by killing your father. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if that prince was involved. Two of the guards saw a goblin run from the dungeon and escape into the woods-"

"Fr-he was locked in his cell all night!"

"How do you know?"

"That does not matter, the goblins did not do it!"

"Oh? Then who did?"

"A monster! A large wolf with black fur, red eyes, brown claws, and wings like a dragon!" she exclaimed, raising her arms dramatically.

"... A what?" Aldirch furrowed his eyebrows in utter confusion.

"I saw it myself!"

"You saw it kill your father?"

"Well, I... no... But what else could have?"

"My dear, I know how painful it is to lose your father," he said kindly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "But you can't blame fictitious creatures on his death. The fact of the matter is this: the goblins killed Jamison. Not a-a, a wolf with wings. Even if that prince didn't do it himself, he probably commanded his goblins to do it. Perhaps even before he came here."

"He's not  _that_  clever," she scoffed.

"That is neither here nor there. Now, come inside, and we shall discuss how to deal with that horrid creature." He nudged her inside with a hand on her back. She allowed him to lead her into the castle, new thoughts rushing through her head.

 


	10. Chapter 9 -- Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Aldrich took Irene to the council room, where there were already several people, including some of the guards who were present during the battle against the goblins ten years prior. They all looked mournful and angry, though they softened their expressions when the princess entered the room. She ignored their expressions, still thinking about the previous conversation with her betrothed.

Once everyone sat at the round table, with Aldrich in the main seat, he said, “As we are all aware, His Majesty, King Jamison of Porumbel was murdered the previous night.”

Everyone nodded solemnly. Irene sighed heavily as her eyes stung slightly with tears. But she didn't let them fall, having cried enough the previous night. “The physician and apothecary say he claimed to be attacked by some... creature,” he continued skeptically, stroking his beard with his pointer finger and thumb. “A great winged wolf.”

The guards and knights glanced at each other in confusion. “A winged... wolf?” one man asked.

“They were unable to get much out of him, as he was slowly slipping away. However, as we are all aware, 'winged wolves' simply do not exist.”

“So, His Majesty was lying?” another knight frowned.

“Not lying,” Aldrich said smoothly. “Simply... incoherent, shall we say? Any creature in the shadows of the dark can look like anything. Even fictional animals. And, if I may reiterate, he was injured and dying.”

Irene's eyebrows furrowed angrily at her betrothed. It had hurt when he told her that she was too grievous to correctly identify her father's murderer; but now he was disregarding him as well, when he knew very well who attacked him. This made her feel even worse, especially since her father now couldn't confirm that it had been, indeed, a large winged wolf that attacked him.

She opened her mouth to say something, but a guard asked, “Well, if it wasn't an animal who attacked the king, who was it?”

“Is it not obvious?” Aldrich shrugged. “The goblin prince accused us of killing his parents, and his... kind, probably agree full-heartedly with him. Only _they_ would have the motive for murdering the leader of their enemy.”

“There _was_ a goblin that ran out of the dungeon where the goblin prince is,” one of the guards whom had been guarding—or, rather, sleeping—the aforementioned dungeon said.

“But it ran off into the woods before the king was attacked,” his partner countered with a small frown.

“Perhaps it was telling the prince that more were coming to attack the king. Or trying to break him out. The gate had been mangled, as if something was being shoved against it. It cannot lock properly any longer.”

“It will take a long time to fully fix it. But at any rate, only goblins can be strong enough to do such a thing to the gate.”

“Regardless of who did what, the true criminal is obvious,” Aldrich stated, standing and planting his hands on the table. “And now-”

“-It wasn't the goblins!”

Everyone turned to Irene, who was standing as well, albeit with clenched fists at her side. “Your Highness?” one of the knights questioned, slightly pale. “You... speak in favor of the goblins?”

“In the case that they are not responsible for my father's death, yes,” she nodded. “I saw the creature myself, and it is as my father described: a great, black wolf. He had dragon wings on his back, blood-red eyes, long dirt-colored claws, and sharp white teeth! He was a monster!”

Everyone's eyes widened as she described the wolf; everyone's, except Aldrich's. He crossed his arms and frowned, looking very frustrated and disapproving. He raised an eyebrow at Irene, as if to silently tell her to stop talking.

However, one of the knights asked, “How do you know if this, Your Highness?”

She paused briefly, quickly coming up with a logical explanation, as to not tell the truth in that she willingly went to see Froglip the previous night. “I heard noises outside of my bedroom window,” she lied. “I thought it had been my imagination, but I realized they were real. I was about to leave my room to tell someone when one of guards told me Father had been injured.”

“Irene, my dear, you can't possible believe that such an animal could exist?” Aldrich smiled, though it looked patronizing.

“You barely believed that goblins existed,” she countered.

“I only believe in things I have seen. I saw the goblin, and therefore they are real. Unless I see this winged wolf, I refuse to believe that such a thing exists.”

“But-”

“-Enough!” he suddenly snapped, slamming a fist on the table, startling everyone. “I tried to be patient with you before, but I will remind you again: you cannot blame your father's death on fictional creatures! There are no such things as winged wolves! But there _are_ such things as goblins, and they are what killed your father!”

“So, what do you propose we do?” one of the knights tentatively asked.

“We have one of their own in our very own dungeon. Even if he is imprisoned, he is still dangerous, and a critical member of our enemy,” Aldrich said, adjusting his coat, and slowly began to circle around the seated knights, guards, and princess. “And he could-no, _will_ become more dangerous should we simply return him to his kind. We cannot use him as a bargaining chip.”

Everyone, sans Irene, nodded in agreement. She held her breath as she realized what he intended to do.

“So, what else can we do? He is too dangerous to live... so he must die.” He returned by his seat, cleared his throat, and said, “I, Aldrich of Acreditam, sentence the goblin prince to death for his kind's crimes against the Porumbel family. He will die by beheading tomorrow at sunrise. This council is dismissed.”

As the guards and knights left, talking among themselves, Irene remained standing, frozen. Even though Froglip was her enemy, and he had tried to kidnap her ten years prior, it still shocked her that he was to be executed for a crime his people had not done. She felt horrible, as if she hadn't done everything in her power to prevent it from happening.

“I don't know what has gotten into you,” Aldrich sighed bitterly, surprising her; she hadn't realized he was still in the room, “defending someone who is not only the leader of _goblins_ , but also tried to kidnap you!”

“I am not defending him,” she protested weakly.

“You are,” he countered firmly. “You are trying to pin the blame on a fictional creature. I'm willing to believe that you are doing this because you are confused and upset about your father's death. But once that goblin is dead, I don't want to hear anything else about your imaginary winged wolf. Am I understood?”

“... Yes,” she said quietly, bowing her head and wringing her hands. She brushed past him as she left the council room, deep in thought.

One might wonder why she felt sympathy and had defended Froglip, since he was her enemy. But similar to leaving him when he was injured, she couldn't stomach the thought of him dying for a crime his people didn't do. Especially since the true criminal was still out there.

Suddenly, Irene had a thought: Froglip and Dirtclaw seemed to know each other—Froglip especially seemed to know the wolf quite well. With that thought in mind, she grabbed her skirt and hurried to the dungeon.

 

* * *

 

There were new guards at the door of the dungeon, standing straight and to attention, weapons in hand. She slowed down as she approached them, and stood tall as she approached them. “Your Highness,” they greeted, bowing slightly.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I wish to speak with the goblin prisoner privately.”

Glancing at each other, one of the guards asked, “May we ask why, Your Highness?”

“I want to know why he he had my father killed,” she said, feeling her stomach twist at the lie. It made it seem like she had accepted that the goblins were the true criminals. “And I believe he will only talk if I am alone.” She smiled kindly as the guards began to protest, saying they wouldn't be able to protect her if she were alone with him. “I know how to handle myself against goblins, and I am not a child any longer. The gate was fixed, yes?”

“Temporarily, Your Highness,” one of the guards corrected.

“Then it will be all right. I'll scream if I require assistance.”

After a few more seconds, the guards nodded, and one unlocked the door. “Make it quick,” he said.

“Thank you,” she nodded with a curtsy before stepping into the room. The door closed shut behind her.

The gate had indeed been temporarily fixed. A chain had been wrapped around the bent gate and a still-straight bar, and padlocked. Froglip still sat in the cell, running his fingers along the bandages on his arm. When he looked up at Irene, he frowned and remained sitting. “What do you want now?” he huffed.

Irene approached the cell and crouched down, causing the goblin to raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Have you been told the news?” she asked quietly.

“What news? And why are you whispering?” he lisped, turning slightly to face her.

Shushing him, she continued, “My father was killed last night. Dirtclaw attacked him.”

Froglip's ears perked up at the news, and had a conflicted expression, as if he didn't know whether to feel contempt or sympathy. But he remained quiet.

“However,” she continued, “no one will believe me about him. The goblins have been convicted of the crime, and as a result, you will be beheaded at sunrise tomorrow.”

“What?!” he snarled, leaping to his feet.

“Shhh!” she hissed, standing as well and wrapping her fingers around the bars. “That's not what I want to talk to you about. You know Dirtclaw, yes?”

“... Yes?” Froglip said, confused.

“How well?”

“What are you-”

“How well do you know Dirtclaw?!” she asked frantically.

“I... well enough.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Why?” he inquired suspiciously.

Glancing over her shoulder to see that the guards weren't listening, she shuffled closer to the bars, until her face was practically shoved between two of them, and whispered, “Dirtclaw needs to be killed. He is too dangerous to be left alive. It's obvious that he is targeting you, but who's to say he won't attack anyone else?”

“So, what are you planning to do? Find him and kill him?” Froglip scoffed.

“Yes.”

He blinked several times in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I want to know where Dirtclaw is,” she said firmly.

Sighing heavily, Froglip said, “I don't know exactly where he is, but there are rumors he is living in a mountain that is Skewer Summit. It was said there used to be goblins that lived there, until they were chased away by a pack of wolves. Supposedly, the leader was a large black wolf with wings and brown claws.”

“Do you know where that is.”

“It's not that hard to find,” he shrugged, “it's a mountain with tall spikes, as the name suggests.”

“Will you take me there?”

“Wha-all right, now I know for sure you're crazy.”

“I want you to take me to Skewer Summit and help me kill Dirtclaw.”

Froglip laid a hand over his face and shook his head with a soft growl. “First of all,” he held up a finger, “Skewer Summit is several days away from here. And you know what is between us and there?” he asked rhetorically, removing his hand and cocking an eyebrow. “Thick forests, wild animals, and a river. Second of all,” he raised two fingers, “I'm stuck in here, if you've forgotten. Since your people are convinced that mine are guilty of Dirtclaw's crime, that I am to pay for it, and they don't believe you about him, they will laugh in your face should you suggest letting me go to kill Dirtclaw. And third of all,” he lifted three fingers, “what makes you think I will help you?”

“We can figure out how to get you out. But regarding your third point, I propose a truce. With my father gone, I am next in line for the throne, and very well may ascend to it soon. Should you help me rid the world of a dangerous monster, I will not only pardon you of your crimes, but I will also let you go freely, _and_ leave your people alone. We can never see each other again.”

The goblin prince narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It almost sounded like a trap; in fact, nearly every bone in his body urged him to not trust the Sun-Princess. After all, it was her fault that he had gotten distracted enough to be kicked down the waterfall.

However, a tiny part of him also wanted to see Dirtclaw dead. And that part also, surprisingly, told him to take the deal. The goblins already didn't want any part in attacking the Sun-People, and would more than likely not follow him in attacking him should he get away from the Sun-Princess.

Irene watched Froglip mull it over, resisting the urge to tap her foot impatiently. She settled for chewing her bottom lip instead.

“As I said, the journey will be far,” he said slowly, staring her down seriously. “And if you so much as complain about the heat, or something else stupid-”

“-I won't, I promise. I just want to see him dead. He is the cause of so much pain, and I will _not_ allow him to spread any more pain.”

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded, “All right, I'll do it. But you'll have to prepare to travel, as well as get me out, for tonight. We can't go in broad daylight, and we can't wait until later; I'll be dead tomorrow.”

“I'll return tonight,” she agreed, having to pry her fingers away from the bars, as she had been gripping them so tightly. Flexing them, she stepped back and said quietly, “We leave tonight.”

“Tonight,” he nodded once, sitting down again.

She turned around and pushed the door open, squinting at the bright daylight as she stepped out of the dungeon. “Has he said much?” one of the guards asked as they stepped back into position.

Irene froze briefly until she remembered she was supposed to be interrogating Froglip about her father's death. “... He said nothing,” she answered in a bitter tone as she walked away briskly.

 


	11. Chapter 10 -- Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Angelica's eyes widened as Irene told her of her plan. “But... he's a goblin, Your Highness,” she whispered, holding her hood tighter around her head. “With all due respect... can he really be trusted?”

“We both want the same thing:” the princess answered solemnly, “for Dirtclaw to be dead. And we have similar reasons for wanting him to be dead. And even then, he agreed to the truce.”

“And you think he will hold up his end of it?”

“... I can only hope. But should he forget about the truce, I know how to defend myself against goblins,” she smiled cheekily. “Ten years hasn't made me soft against them, and the truce won't either. But I need your help, Angelica.”

“A-anything,” her handmaiden said immediately.

“I need you to help me gather supplies for the journey, _and_ to create a distraction to get the guards away from the dungeon tonight. Can you do that for me?”

“It... it is my duty to serve you, my princess.” Angelica bowed at the waist. “And I shall do my best to serve you tonight.”

“Thank you,” Irene nodded, laying a hand on her shoulder. Ignoring the flinch from the other girl, she continued, “We must be ready once the sun sets. Once it is done... there is no going back.”

“When will you return?”

“As soon as Dirtclaw is dead.”

“Yes, but how long will that take?”

“... I do not know,” Irene confessed, “Froglip says the journey to Skewer Summit will take several days, and we will have to travel to and from it... have you heard of the mountain, Angelica?”

“Only in passing, Your Highness.” She suddenly turned away and grabbed a piece of parchment and a pen. Dipping the pen in an inkwell, she drew out a large mountain, which almost seemed to be made of giant shards. “There is also a river which flows into the mountain,” she added as she drew a flowing river leading into the base of the mountain.

“Have there been stories of goblins living there?”

Angelica was quiet before she answered in a low tone, “I don't know.”

Irene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but decided to let it go. “At any rate, we can pack up now so I'll be ready to go tonight.”

She nodded, seeming to be glad for the subject change. “I can go get some supplies, while you find a bag and anything you think you need. But it-it's best to travel light.”

“All right,” Irene answered as her handmaiden left the room. Looking around, she found a large leather satchel, with the Porumbel sigil embroidered in gold on the the flap. She grabbed a couple of her favorite books and stuffed them into the bag. Even if they weren't necessary for a journey, she wanted them for entertainment, and for a bit of nostalgia, since it would be the first time she would be away from home for longer than a day.

She sighed softly, running her fingers over the pigeons and crown. It was slowly starting to sink in what she was about to do: she was about to run away from home, with her enemy, who was also basically a stranger, and travel for several days to and from the mountain, and try to kill a monster she previously had no idea even existed. A tiny part of her urged her not to do it, but she already made up her mind, and nothing could sway her.

Angelica returned to the room, arms full of supplies: a couple of rolls of bandages, a bottle of poultice, a bundle of rope, a water-skin that looked full, and something wrapped in a large cloth. As Irene took the various objects and put them in the satchel, Angelica revealed that there was food in the cloth, including a loaf of bread, dried fruits, and salted meats.

Once everything was packed into the satchel, Irene took Angelica's hands into her own and said, “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Y-you're we-welcome, Your Highness,” she answered, standing very stiff. “But my job isn't done. Tonight, I will return and help you and Froglip get out.”

“Thank you,” Irene nodded, letting her hands go. She hid the satchel in a chest, and Angelica helped her prepare for bed. Keeping in mind that she wouldn't be sleeping comfortably for several days, she snuggled deep into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin as her handmaiden left the room.

Despite feeling warm and cozy in her bed, she couldn't fall asleep. The upcoming plan to sneak out of the castle with Froglip—who was not only her biggest enemy, but also a prisoner who was due to be executed for his people's presumed crime—and travel to a mountain she hadn't heard of prior to that day was keeping her wide awake. All of the possibilities ran through her head; they could get lost, they could get separated, or worse, he could be lying and end up hurting her.

But Froglip seemed sincere, and Angelica confirmed that Skewer Summit was real. And as she said, she knew how to defend herself against goblins. And even if he didn't seem it, she knew he absolutely wanted revenge against Dirtclaw. After all, his own parents had been killed by the wolf, and they already seemed to have a history even before the murder.

Her hands were laying flat on the bedspread as she continued to lay in the bed. The fire-opal on her ring began to glow slightly. She hadn't noticed this, but she did notice a glowing line, starting at her ring, and flowing out of the room. As soon as her eye caught the glowing line, she realized it wasn't merely a line; it was the thread her great-great-grandmother had gifted her ten years ago just before the goblins attacked.

She climbed out of bed, gently grasped the line in her right hand, and followed the thread out of her room, down a hall, and up some stairs. She barely noticed where she was going until she found herself outside a familiar door. She pushed the door open with a smile, knowing it wouldn't look like a dark, dusty room.

Indeed, the room was lit by a large, inviting fire in an ornate fireplace. Instead of smelling like burning wood and a hint of smoke, the room smelled of rose petals, and the fire had a slight pink glow. The entire room was an orange-pink color, including a few articles of furniture. Standing in the room beside the fireplace was a tall, older woman. She wore a light-lavender-colored dress, a rose-pink sash around her waist, and a golden crown on her head. Her skin was pale, and her thick white hair easily reached down to the ground. She had a kind face, blue eyes that matched Irene's, and a pink smile.

Without a word, Irene ran to the woman's arms, and hugged her tightly. It had been ten years since she had last seen her great-great-grandmother, Irene, and she had sorely missed her. Her happy laughs turned to sobs as she realized how truly alone she was now; her only family had been murdered only a day ago, and he must have finally met the woman Irene told him about all those years ago. Even if he didn't see her when he was alive, she knew he believed every word she said.

As if reading her thoughts, her grandmother said softly, “There, there, my child. Your father rests peacefully. He is all right.” She tilted her descendant's face up delicately and cupped her cheeks with her hands. She gently brushed away the tears with her thumbs.

“Oh, Grandmother,” Irene whispered, “that... that monster...”

“Yes, I know,” the older woman sighed. This struck Irene, as she had never heard her grandmother sound so mournful. “My child,” she said, grasping her great-great-granddaughter's shoulders and pushing her an arm's length away from her, “you realize this mission of yours is very dangerous, yes? And not simply because of the wolf. You must remember what that goblin nearly did to you?”

“I do, Grandmother,” Irene nodded as her grandmother took her hands in her own. “But if I allow Dirtclaw to live, with the knowledge that I could have done something, I couldn't live with myself. He is too dangerous to live. Traveling with Froglip... it is a necessary evil to rid the world of a monster.”

Her grandmother gave a solemn nod as she let Irene's hands go. “I understand. And I believe in you to accomplish your goal and keep yourself safe. However, I will still provide you with some protection.”

“Protection? What sort of protection?”

She didn't answer. Instead, she lifted Irene's necklace with both hands. Her hair floated up and fell over the necklace. Rose petals flew around the hair and necklace, as if being blown by a breeze, and a few white pigeons flew over them both, dropping several feathers.

When her hair fell away, the necklace now had alternating pink rose petals and small, white pigeon feathers along the chain on either side of the pendant. The rose petals looked and smelled fresh, as if they had been plucked from the flower only recently, and the feathers felt soft to the touch. “Thank you, Grandmother,” Irene said, adjusting the necklace back in place. “But will this truly help me?”

“It is the same principle as the thread I gave you many years ago,” she explained, lifting her granddaughter's left hand and running her thumb over the ring. “Do you remember what I taught you?”

“Yes, that I had to find my own magic,” Irene nodded. “The sort of magic inside of everyone; good against evil, right against wrong, and doing what I think is right, even if no one else will help me. But... I don't understand what this has to do with my necklace.”

“You will see in time, my child,” her grandmother smiled, lifting her chin with her other hand and kissing her forehead. “But for now, if you truly think this is the right path, you must go. You are a brave and kind child... no, a brave and kind young _woman_. And I believe as long as you follow your heart, and do what you think is right, you will be all right.”

Irene hugged her grandmother one last time, and then turned to exit the room. After she closed the door, her curiosity was too great to ignore. When she turned and cracked the door open, she saw it had returned to the dark, dusty room it always was. But when she fingered her necklace, she felt the smooth petals and soft feathers. Smiling, she returned to her room.

 


	12. Chapter 11 -- Sneak Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Later that night, Irene had to be shaken awake by Angelica, having dozed off. "My apologies, Angelica," the princess yawned, climbing out of bed and pushing her feet into her shoes.

"Quite all right, Your Highness," Angelica shook her head. "Any sleep is necessary."

"Indeed."

Chewing her lower lip, Angelica said softly, "Erm, I brought something else."

"Oh? What is it?"

After a few seconds of hesitation, her handmaiden shakily presented something wrapped in cloth. Irene carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing what was inside: a dagger, with a golden, intricately-designed hilt, and equally-decorative silver sheath. There was a thick strip of leather wrapped around the top of the sheath, which one could use to attach it to one's belt.

The princess slowly took the dagger and stared down at it. "I-I thought you may have n-needed a weapon," Angelica said nervously. She glanced back and forth between Irene and the dagger, as if expecting her to suddenly attack her with it.

"I recognize this," the princess said softly, pulling the weapon out of its sheath. The blade was sharp, and nearly half the length of her entire arm. It didn't feel terribly heavy, but it wasn't light either. "This was Father's. He showed it to me a number of times." She turned to Angelica with an unreadable expression. "Where did you find this?"

"I... I saw your f-father's door was ajar, and I glanced in." She swallowed nervously before continuing, "I s-saw it on a table, and-and that was when I thought of y-you needing a weapon." She fiddled with her hood, shaking as if the room were cold.

Irene lifted a hand to lay on her shoulder, but thought better of it when her handmaiden flinched. "Angelica," she instead said gently, "I would be honored to carry my father's dagger to avenge him. Thank you." She pushed the dagger back into its sheath, and was about to put it in her bag. However, she paused, looked at the dagger, and fingered at her hair. "... If I were to cut my hair, would anyone outside of the castle recognize that I am the princess?"

Blinking in surprise, Angelica answered, "Well... I s-suppose it wouldn't hurt?"

The princess remained silent, glancing between the dagger and her hair. Her thoughtful expression turned to a determined one as she unsheathed the dagger, gathered all of her hair in one hand, and moved the blade under it. Ignoring her handmaiden's gasp, she held her breath and began sawing through her hair. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but she ended up with a thick handful of long hair. She turned to face her vanity, and nearly dropped the dagger and her handful of hair at the sight of he reflection.

Her hair, which had once reached her waist, now barely fell past her chin. It was a choppy and uneven haircut, and she barely recognized herself.

She smiled with satisfaction, hid her cut hair under her bed, and sheathed the dagger before putting it in her bag. "Well, I do believe I am ready."

Relaxing somewhat, Angelica asked, "What else can I do to help, Your Highness?"

"Distracting the guards," Irene answered solemnly, shouldering the bag—which fell to her hip.

* * *

This time, the guards standing outside the dungeon were wide-awake and at attention. They were still in grief at the passing of their king, and relished the moment when the goblin would be killed. The goblins were responsible; it was the only logical reasoning for the king's death. And nothing would change their minds. Not even their beloved princess.

It actually surprised them that she had not only denied that the goblins had killed him, but that she went as far as to defend the goblins. Following Aldrich's reasoning, they had brushed off her claims of a monstrous winged wolf being the true murderer as her being stricken with grief and hysteria. It hadn't quite explained why she was so sure that it hadn't been the goblins, but it was neither here nor there. They hoped she would come to her senses after the goblin prince was executed, and her grief passed.

Suddenly, there was a scream. The two guards held their weapons tightly, fearing for the princess's safety.

To their surprise, her handmaiden, Angelica, came running up to them, clasping her skirt in one hand, and holding her hood against her head with the other. "Help!" she cried, looking very frightened. "Oh, help me, please!"

"Calm down," one of the guards said sternly, holding out his hand. He didn't grasp her shoulder, as he knew her to be very jumpy. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Th-th-there's—I s-s-saw g-g-goblins!" she answered shakily, clutching at her chest.

This immediately got both guards' attention. "Goblins?! Where?!"

"Along th-the f-f-forest's edge! I was o-on the oth-other s-side of the castle! Oh, p-please hurry!" Without waiting for a reply, Angelica turned around and ran back the way she came. The guards hurried after her, looking about for the goblins she had seen.

Once the guards were gone, a cloaked figure snuck around the corner. They paused, and clicked their tongue when they saw the ring of keys on the ground. The guard holding them must have dropped them, whether when they first heard Angelica, or when they ran after her. As of now, it was a fortunate mistake; any other time, however, it was a serious one.

Shrugging, the figure picked up the keys, unlocked the door, and slowly pushed it open. The dungeon was just as it had been before: the gate bent inward, and chained and padlocked to the straight bars. Froglip was still inside, lying in the straw, fast asleep. His cape had been unpinned and was being used as a blanket.

The figure closed the door behind them and knocked their knuckles against the wall, startling the goblin awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shaking his head, he groaned out of sleepiness, freezing and blinking in surprise at the figure in front of him, wrapped in a dark-blue cloak.

They reached up and pulled the cloak back, revealing it to be the Sun-Princess. Except her hair was now chopped short, barely reaching the bottom of her chin, and her necklace had pink petals and white feathers interchanging along the chain. She was also wearing her nightgown and dark-pink shoes.

After a few seconds, Froglip stood up and asked in utter confusion, "Wha... what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to let you out so we can go to Skewer Summit. Or did you forget?"

Froglip had indeed forgotten for a second. "I thought you wouldn't go for it," he remarked as he pinned his cape back around his neck

"We made a deal, and  _I_ , for one, don't go back on deals," Irene replied, unlocking the padlock with the same ring of keys.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

"So I'm not as recognizable as the princess. Otherwise, people would ask too many questions, or possibly tell other people. Then, we would be caught."

Froglip gave a small nod of understanding as he pushed open the gate. Before exiting the cell, he rummaged under the hay until he found the spearhead he had dropped during his fight with Dirtclaw. "How did you get the guards away?"

"I had some help," Irene explained, shutting the gate again. "But we better hurry, or they'll surely be back." Once they left the room, she shut the door behind them and placed the ring of keys on the ground where she found them. "Come with me, and be quiet."

Froglip rolled his eyes, but followed her silently across the rampart, down the stairs, and out of the castle. "What are you doing?" he hissed as they approached the stables.

"If we go on foot, it will take days to reach Skewer Summit," Irene answered, carefully pulling open the door. "But if we use horses, it'll half the journey, at least."

"Horses?" Froglip muttered in confusion, only to stare wide-eyed at the animals being kept in the stable. They were tall, standing on four legs, with each one ending with one hoof; had long necks, long faces, and hair on their necks as well as their tails. They were all sorts of different colors, and stared sleepily and suspiciously at the visitors with round, dark eyes.

Irene approached one of the horses with a soft smile, cooing at it softly. It was a chestnut color, with a darker nose, two white socks, and a white blaze down its face. It recognized Irene, and nickered softly at her. She stroked its nose fondly, whispering, "Hello, Hopkin. We need your help to get somewhere."

The horse simply nudged his nose along Irene's hands, as if looking for a snack. She kissed his nose and walked to the next stall, which contained a black horse with a white star on its forehead, and four black socks. "Jocosa, my dear, this is Froglip." She turned to the goblin in question and gestured for him to come over. He glanced at the large animals, almost looking wary, and slowly approached the princess. "We need your help as well, and you need to let Froglip ride you-"

"Excuse me?!" he exclaimed indignantly.

She gave him a soft glare as she grabbed his wrist—when he wasn't looking, she also took the spearhead out of his hand. He tried to pull away, but she kept a tight grip and lifted it up to the horse's nose. She sniffed at his hand, snorting in what sounded like surprise, but didn't do anything else. Nodding once, Irene shoved the spearhead into her bag and left to bring the horse's tack.

Froglip glanced between the two horses as they stared at him. Goblins had similar animals, though more grotesque and horrifying-looking to Sun-People. They mainly used them for work, not usually riding them, though Froglip did learn to ride one. He had broken his arm falling off of one, and it took years for him to even go near the creature again, much less ride it. But as much as he hated to admit, the Sun-Princess was right; it would take less time to get to Skewer Summit on riding them than it would to simply walk.

Irene managed to lug the horse tack to one place—the pile simply consisted of two bridles and two saddles. She led Hopkin out first, and saddled him up. "You seem like you know what you're doing," Froglip remarked, glancing nonchalantly at his claws.

She glanced back at him, trying to figure out if his statement was sincere or sarcastic. Deciding not to dwell on it, she replied, "Father taught me. He also taught me how to ride them."

"He taught you a lot?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "He wanted me to be educated." She tried to brush her hair behind her ear. It would take time for her to get used to this shorter haircut.

Froglip continued to watch her saddle up Hopkin, and then Jocosa. She mounted the chestnut-colored horse, and then nodded at the black one. "She won't buck me off, will she? I'd rather not have my arm broken again."

 _Again?_  "As long as you don't try anything funny, she won't hurt you."

Taking a deep breath, Froglip managed to climb onto Jocosa, trying to copy how the Sun-Princess had mounted her own horse. Jocosa was tall, and tried to move to the side, making it difficult. But since he didn't want to get injured, and also wanted to get going before anyone found them, he didn't say or do anything to indicate his frustration. And soon, he was on the horse.

"Stick your feet in the stirrups, and hold onto the reins," Irene instructed. "She will follow Hopkin, but once we are out of the castle, you will have to lead, since you know the way to Skewer Summit."

Froglip grunted in reply as he did what she had instructed, just as his horse began to follow the Sun-Princess's out of the stable. His heart jumped when Jocosa moved, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. If Sun-People's horses were anything like the larger goblin pets, they could sense your fear and would act on them.

Irene rode the horse around the wall surrounding the castle until they came to a part where it had crumbled away, leaving an opening just big enough for the horses to get through. On the other side was the small river that acted as the castle's moat.

Hopkin squeezed through the opening easily and began to cross the river. It was shallow enough that the horses could walk, but deep enough that they and their riders would have to raise their heads above the water. Once Hopkin made it across, Irene urged him forward so Jocosa had room to walk ashore, and began to squeeze the water out of her clothes.

Froglip tensed up terribly once his feet touched the water and as it climbed up to his neck. His mind flashed back to ten years prior, when he was kicked in the chest by the Sun-Boy and fell down the waterfall. He shook the memories away, and concentrated on keeping his head above the water until the black horse made it to dry land. He shook the water out of his hair and squeezed his cape as dry as he could.

"All right, then," Irene nodded. "Where to?"

Froglip glanced around the area until he nodded in a general direction and said, "That way." Without another word, he kicked at Jocosa's sides until she took off at a full gallop. Irene barely had time to hang onto her own horse as Hopkin followed suit.

The two rode swiftly and silently, curving around the small mountain that sat next to the castle. When Irene glanced to her left, she saw a tiny cottage made of stone and straw. She recognized it as Curdie's house, having visited him a few times. The windows were dark, and the chimney had a few wisps of smoke trailing out, as if the evening fire had been put out only a few hours prior.

Then, she realized there was a voice in the wind. "Froglip!" she called out.

"What?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Stop! I hear someone!" Hopkin was right beside Jocosa at that point; Irene reached across and grabbed her reins, while pulling Hopkin's as well. This caused both horses to stop suddenly.

Froglip managed to not fly forward and either smash his nose against the back of his horse's head or fly over her. He turned angrily to Irene and growled, "What if it'th one of your Th'un-People from your cath'tle?!"

Before she could answer, she heard the voice again. "... Irene!"

Her eyes widened, and she turned Hopkin around. "Curdie?!" she called out, though not at full volume.

Curdie was riding bareback on a large, stocky horse, which was chestnut in color with lighter stockings, straight at Irene and Froglip. He was dressed in dirty miner's clothes, and had a large knapsack bouncing off of his side.

He halted his horse and exclaimed, "I thought I saw horses running from the castle! Irene, what is going on? Why is  _he_ ," he glared at Froglip, who returned it, "with you and on one of your horses?! And what did you do to your hair?"

"Curdie... my father is dead."

He froze in place, eyes wide and face pale. "Wh-what?"

"He was killed. By the same monster that killed Froglip's parents," she explained solemnly. "It was a great, black wolf with dragon wings. Froglip knows where he is; we're going there to confront and kill him."

Curdie glanced between the princess and the goblin for several seconds, not knowing how to respond. "... Did you saw a wolf with wings?"

"Yes, and red eyes and dirt-colored claws. You... you  _do_  believe me, don't you?"

"I do, Irene," he nodded. "Because I've heard stories about that wolf."

This time, both Irene and Froglip stared at the miner in shock. "You have? Wh-"

"-That is no concern of ours," Froglip interrupted her. "You wanted me to take you to Skewer Summit, we must leave before your Sun-People find us."

"I'm going with you."

"What?"

"What?!" Both Froglip deadpanned and Irene exclaimed respectively.

"Irene... it's dangerous-"

"-I can take care of myself against goblins-"

"-I know. Surprisingly enough, Froglip isn't quite my main concern. It's this wolf you're going after. He's dangerous, and unless I'm wrong, you've never faced a wolf, much less one with wings."

"Curdie, I-we need to do this," she said firmly. "He killed my father, and Froglip's parents. He may go after other people. He  _must_  be killed. You said so yourself: he's dangerous."

"Which is why I want to go and help you," he replied, eyebrows furrowing with determination. "Nothing will change my mind."

Glancing back at Froglip, who shook his head, Irene sighed, "Very well." Ignoring the goblin's irritated groan, she added, "But we have to follow Froglip. He knows the way."

"Fair enough," Curdie shrugged. "But it won't do for you to travel in your nightdress and cloak."

"What else can I wear?"

He pulled his knapsack onto his lap and opened it. Inside, to Irene and Froglip's shock, there were a few articles of clothing and a pair of shoes. "My mother taught me to take a change of clothes with me, in case I need to change, or if someone needs help."

Froglip sighed heavily as Irene dismounted Hopkin and reached for the clothes. "Hurry up," he grumbled. He turned away so he didn't have to see Irene undressing. Curdie did the same, moving his horse so he could hold Hopkin's reins. After a few minutes, she said they could look.

Instead of her light-pink nightgown, dark-blue cloak, and dark-pink pumps, Irene was now dressed in miner clothing: a baggy light-brown shirt, dirt-green pants, an old brown belt, and brown shoes. The sleeves were bunched up to her elbows and the pants only reached halfway-down her shins, revealing her thin, pale arms and legs. Her former clothes lay in the grass at her feet.

Curdie nodded his approval. "Did you cut your hair yourself?"

"Yes," she nodded, opening her knapsack—which was over her shoulder again—and pulling out her dagger.

Curdie dismounted his own horse and helped attach the sheath of the dagger to her belt. "Well, are we ready?"

"Yes!" Froglip yelled as Irene and Curdie remounted their horses. "We've been ready for several minutes now! They could be looking for us by now!"

"With your shouting, they'll find us quickly!" Curdie scolded.

"Stop arguing, both of you," Irene frowned. "Froglip, shall we go on, or would you rather stay here until morning?"

Rolling his eyes, Froglip kicked Jocosa back into a gallop; Hopkin and Curdie's horse followed them as they ran further away from the castle.


	13. Chapter 12 -- Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

After several minutes of riding, Irene began to feel her eyelids becoming heavy and itchy; early signs of sleepiness. She shook her head sharply and focused on riding Hopkin after Jocosa and Chestnut, Curdie's older work horse. It definitely helped that her horse was following the others instinctively. But she also began to slowly feel a bit aloof, as if she didn't care about riding anymore.

Curdie noticed his friend trying not to nod off, and exclaimed, "Stop!"

Froglip yanked the reins back, causing Jocosa to rear up on her hind legs a little in surprise at the sudden stop. His eyes widened and his heart jumped at the sudden increase in height, and he flashed back to when he fell off and broke his arm, but managed to stay on Jocosa as she calmed down. "What?!" he snapped as the other two horses stopped as well, though much calmer than his.

"We're tired—"

"—I'm fine, Curdie."

"No, you're not," he said sternly. "I could see you nodding off." He glanced back over his shoulder. They were in the forest now, surrounded by trees and brush, and bathed in shadows. A few beams of moonlight shone down through the leaves of the trees. "We're a long distance away from the castle now. If they're somehow looking for you and Froglip, they probably won't come out this far. We should stop and sleep for the night."

Froglip rolled his eyes with a huff. Since he had been dragged into escorting the Sun-Princess, and now the Sun-Boy—he refused to call him a man—to Skewer Summit, he wanted to get it over with and fast. Not to mention the prospect of killing Dirtclaw for everything he had done to him was getting him excited as well. But as he saw the Sun-Princess yawn, and felt his jaws try to open in one as well, he sighed, "Fine. But we'll get up early to set off."

"Fair enough," Irene nodded as they walked their horses further into the forest until they found a large clearing. They all dismounted, and she used the rope she had packed to loosely tie the horses together and to a low-hanging branch, with enough slack so they could lower their necks and graze.

Curdie gathered a large pile of sticks, and started a fire. He, Irene, and Froglip sat around the fire, feeling their muscles begin to ache at the long, bouncy ride out into the forest. "How did you find us?" she asked, brushing her hair behind her ear and briefly forgetting how short it now was. Her head also felt lighter, and the back of her neck felt cold. It was definitely something she would have to get used to.

"I was getting Chestnut ready for bed, and I saw you two riding away from the castle. At the time I could barely see you, and could have sworn one of the riders was green," he nodded at Froglip, "and I rode Chestnut after you. Now, what happened with  _you_?"

Irene explained what had happened after he left; Froglip even interjected to explain about Dirtclaw. "I... I'm so sorry, Irene," Curdie said solemnly upon hearing how the king had died. "He... he was a good man."

"Yes," she answered, staring hardheartedly into the fire. "It hurts that no one seems to believe me when I tell them who did it."

"... Well, ten years ago, before you met me, you didn't know that goblins and their pets existed. So, if something happened involving the goblins, and someone told you about the goblins, would you have believed them?" Curdie asked gently.

"... I suppose not," she shrugged, not quite interested in the conversation.

"It's horrible that it had to happen—"

"—what about  _my_  parents?" Froglip snapped selfishly.

"What about them?"

The young goblin gnashed his teeth angrily. "They were killed a'sh well!" he growled through his clenched teeth. "They were the intended victim'sh!"

"Your people fought against Irene's people and I all those years ago, very nearly starting a war! Your mother basically locked me in a small cave intent on keeping me in there to die! Do you think I will let all of that go in order to offer you my sympathies?! If that's the case, then you must be either out of your mind, or very stupid."

"You watch your tone, Th'un-Boy!" Froglip lisped, pointing a clawed finger at Curdie. "I may have a tru'th with the Th'un-Prin'the'th, but if you think I'm going to be th'ivil to  _you_ , then—"

"—Enough!" Irene exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "Stop arguing! This helps nothing!"

Both Curdie and Froglip were about to answer, but then there was a growling sound. At first, Irene was worried that a wild animal had found them. But she realized it wasn't that; they were all hungry. Froglip was probably especially hungry, as she didn't remember seeing any food, or at least crumbs, in his cell.

She pulled her bag off of her shoulder and opened the flap. She took out the rolled up cloth, and opened it on the ground, revealing the food inside. "We'll need to ration the food out so it could last us the next few days," she advised, picking up the loaf of bread and tearing three pieces off. She rolled the cloth back around the food and stuffed it back into her bag.

"Perhaps I should make a spear," Froglip mused quietly to himself as they ate the bread, as well as a few berries Curdie had managed to find.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"To hunt with, and defend myself with. Why else would you make a spear, idiot?" the goblin sneered.

"You know how to make and use a spear?" Irene asked, intent on not having another argument.

"Yep!" he said proudly, puffing up his chest. "I learned how to, on my own might I add, over the past ten years. All I need is a good, strong staff, a rock, and some fiber."

"That would help us tremendously," she admitted, clenching her bread until it was a compacted piece of cooked dough. She nibbled on it thoughtfully, popping a berry into her mouth every few seconds, and asked Curdie, "Do you know how to cook meat?"

"Certainly," he nodded, poking at the fire with a stick. "Mother taught me to cook. She told me even if it was a woman's job, a man should know how to provide for himself."

"I had to learn that the hard way," Froglip grumbled, eating the last of his bread.

Irene was about to ask what he meant, but then everyone froze; the goblin's ears perked up, as if listening intently. Soon, everyone heard it: men calling out Irene's name, and pounding hooves. And it was coming in their direction.

"Get on the horses!" Curdie exclaimed, jumping up and quickly dousing the fire with dirt.

"Are you mad? They'll find us easily! Get up in the tree!" Froglip answered.

Irene immediately jumped up and grabbed the lowest, thickest branch on a nearby tree, and pulled herself up. Luckily, despite being a princess, she had played outside enough to at least know the basics of climbing trees. Once the fire was completely out, Curdie climbed up as well, albeit fast her than her, and helped her up the rest of the way on the thickest branch.

On the ground, Froglip stood in place, glancing between the tree and the direction of the shouts, and tilting his head in thought until he got an idea. He lifted the loops off of the horses' heads, and turned Hopkin so he was facing away from the direction they had been going. Still holding the rope, he climbed halfway up the tree. "What are you doing?" Curdie hissed.

"Getting them off of our trail," Froglip answered. Taking a deep breath, he slapped Hopkin's hindquarters as hard as he could and yelled, "Get!"

Grunting loudly in surprise, Hopkin took off, with Jocosa and Chestnut close behind. The sound of them plowing through the forest faded away, and they could also hear the voices and pounding hooves of the knights following after the running horses. Eventually, everything was silent, save for a few forest sounds.

"Froglip, are you insane?!" Irene groaned as he joined her and Curdie on the branch. "We  _need_  the horses!"

"No we don't, we just needed them to shorten the journey," he scoffed, looking down at the rope with a small frown. He was never good at untying knots, between them sometimes being difficult to loosen and his claws getting in the way. So, he simply laid it on the branch for someone else to untangle them. "And do you have an incredibly short memory? I just lured those Sun-People away. You're welcome," he said with a smirk, bowing slightly at the waist and holding an arm out with a flourish.

Irene simply groaned in frustration. "But they were not your horses to scare away! They were mine and Curdie's! And now they're probably lost—"

"—the guards will find them, Irene," Curdie interrupted, though he looked anything but calm. "And anyway, horses can find their way home. It still doesn't make it right." He glared pointedly at Froglip.

"Would you rather they find the horses, and potentially looked up into the tree?" he frowned, crossing his arms with a huff. "Because then, not only would we be back to square one, but we would be far worse off."

"No, you're right," Irene sighed. "But regardless, it was still foolish of you to do. Let's forget about it, though, and get some sleep." During their conversation, she had begun to untie the knots in the rope, and succeeded in untangling it fully. "We can tie the rope around our waists and to the tree, in case one of us falls out during the night."

"Ah, so if one of us falls, they take the others with them?" Froglip quirked an eyebrow.

"Must you always have something unpleasant to say?" Curdie deadpanned as he helped tie the rope around Irene's waist.

"I'm simply pointing out the flaws. Did I say it was a bad idea?"

"Please, if you two are to argue, at least do it in the morning," Irene groaned, settling into a comfortable position against the tree.

Luckily, nothing more was said, and the odd group of three gradually fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 13 -- Journey's Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Sunlight beamed through the leaves of the forest trees, leaving spots of sunlight scattered across the ground, and on the three beings still asleep in a large tree. Irene leaned back against the tree, with her hands folded on her lap, and Curdie was right next to her, arms folded behind his head. Froglip was further down the branch and away from them, uncomfortably hunched down and with crossed arms. A long rope was tied around their waists and to the tree.

Froglip was the first one to awaken, being more sensitive to light than his Sun-Peopl "companions". He straightened his back with a groan and a crack, and rubbed at his eyes with his fists. Finally blinking them open, he yawned and cracked his back again, sighing and scratching at his hair. "Up and at 'em, Sun-Boy and Sun-Princess!" he exclaimed, stretching his arms into the air.

Curdie and Irene stirred in their sleep and slowly woke up, yawning and stretching as well. Irene nearly forgot where she was, but the previous night's events came back quickly to her. "Froglip, go on and untie yourself and climb down. Curdie and I will do so as well," she said sleepily, combing down her ruffled-up hair.

Grunting in reply, Froglip was able to untie the rope from around his waist, and climbed down to the ground. He wandered around the area a bit to stretch his legs, and adjusted his clothes and itched at his still-bandaged arm as he did so. His ears twitched back as his "companions" jumped down to the ground, and he heard a surprised cry. He turned in time to see the Sun-Boy help the Sun-Princess to her feet, and smirked at the grass stains on her knees. "The real world is a scary place, eh, Sun-Princess?"

She simply glared at him. "Well, which way now? Since you lost us our horses, we'll have to walk," Curdie huffed.

"Need I remind you, Sun-Boy, that I essentially saved us last night?" the goblin lisped, quirking his eyebrow. "If they had seen the horses, they would have found us easily, even despite Sun-People's absolutely horrid night vision. And then we would have been well and truly—"

"—Let's not start another argument, please?" Irene interrupted, rolling up the rope and stuffing it back into her bag. "Curdie's right; since we'll be walking, we should probably get going soon. Which way, Froglip?"

Sniffing indignantly, Froglip glanced around the area, to regather his bearings, until nodding in the direction they had been riding the previous night before stopping. "This way," he announced before striding off in that direction.

"Wait, what about breakfast?" she asked.

"You wanted to get going, Sun-Princess," he shrugged, turning so he was walking backwards. "If you still have food in that bag, go ahead. Otherwise, there are berries in bushes to grab at. Just don't grab the poisonous ones." He let out a chuckle as if what he stated was something obvious.

She blinked in shock. "Wh-which ones are poisonous?"

But by this time, Froglip was walking forward again, and either didn't hear her or simply ignored her. "Curdie?" she asked in a small voice.

Frowning after the goblin as they hurried to catch up, he smiled kindly at Irene and said, "Most edible berries are black and blue. Avoid red and white ones; especially white ones."

"Not all black and blue berries are edible," Froglip called back over his shoulder. "And there are some edible red berries as well."

Curdie rolled his eyes and continued, "All right, blackberries are the easiest. They are black in color, and look like tiny little orbs stuck together in a berry about this big." He held up a finger and thumb a small distance apart. "And they taste sweet, if not a bit tart. And of course, there are blueberries, which are obviously blue in color, and appear to have stars at the end of the fruits."

"I do enjoy blueberries," Irene nodded.

Froglip rolled his eyes as the Sun-Boy told the Sun-Princess about different berries that were either edible or inedible. It was astonishing that she hadn't been taught which berries were able to be eaten, and which were poisonous. Did Sun-People not think this was necessary knowledge? He himself had been taught this when he was small, years ago.

A memory flashed before his eyes of Suevite taking him, when he was very young, outside the tunnels during the night and showing him the various berries. She had lectured him about what berries to eat and what to avoid earlier that day, and instructed him to bring back the berries they talked about and eat the edible ones. He had accidentally eaten one inedible one, but luckily only got extremely sick. She told him this was a harsh lesson to be learned

At the time, he was greatly confused about why he should identify edible berries, stating that goblins ate meat and bugs, and wouldn't ever need "puny berries", as he called them. Suevite simply said it was for survival. He didn't understand it at the time, but when he was living on his own for the past ten years, he understood very well, and actually came to like the small fruits—though if you asked him, he would deny it.

His heart clenched at the memory of his mother. It seemed like so long ago that she and his father had been killed, even though it had only been a few days prior. There were still times when he would wonder when they would send Glump to try and get him back home, only to remember that they never would again. And for some reason, that made it all hurt even more.

Sighing sharply and rubbing at his chest, Froglip distracted himself by looking around, as they continued to walk through the forest, for a long, strong piece of wood. In all of the commotion of his parents' murder and him being captured by the Sun-People, he had left his spear back in his cave. He still had the spearhead—he remembered the Sun-Princess taking it out of his hand and putting it in her bag the night prior—so he wouldn't need a stone; just a piece of wood, and maybe even some of the Sun-Princess's rope, or simply some fibers. If he was to face off against Dirtclaw, he wasn't going to do it without a weapon, especially one that he was already experienced in.

"How do you know about Dirtclaw?" Irene asked Curdie, brushing some hair behind her ear. Some of it stayed, and some of it fell loose again.

"I've heard stories," he answered, kicking a stone aside as they walked. "Stories of a great black wolf, with wings like that of a dragon, and scars covering his body. He's known to attack people when they aren't looking, and drink their blood."

"Froglip and Glump did say he enjoyed drinking blood. But I hadn't known if it included human."

"Well, it's more than just drinking blood. That's not what makes him so dangerous. He's brutal, but he seems to... enjoy it. I haven't heard many stories where he killed for sport—mostly for food or if someone opposes him—but when he does... he's said to look insane, as if he's relishing in the act... I'm sorry for scaring you."

"No, it-it's all right," she shook her head, despite feeling quite nervous about the idea of meeting Dirtclaw again. She already knew he was a force to be reckoned with, but upon hearing more about him, she was starting to feel anxious about this trip.

Wolves traveled in packs. Even if he was on his own when she met him, who was to say he didn't have a pack somewhere else? At Skewer Summit, even. He even seemed like the kind of wolf who would be leader of a pack. And the idea that he had a pack made him even more dangerous, since wolves could be unpredictable; especially ones that didn't speak the same language as humans and goblins.

"Sun-Princess?"

Her head shot up at Froglip's voice. She realized she had stopped walking during her inner thoughts, and Curdie and Froglip were far ahead of her. Both were looking back at her, concerned and curious respectively. "Are we still going?" the goblin asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"... Y-yes," she nodded, starting to walk again.

"Are you sure, Irene?" Curdie asked, laying a hand on her back and walking alongside her. Froglip stayed still, actually letting them catch up. "I mean, I won't think any less of you if you wish to go back home."

"No, but  _I_  would," she answered solemnly. "I made a promise that I would see Dirtclaw die, and I am going to fulfill that promise."

"Not to mention our truce," Froglip added, leading the way again and still looking for material for a spear.

Irene nodded. "Besides, we've gone this far," she said, glancing back the way they had been walking, seeing nothing but trees in their wake, "it would be foolish to go back now. Besides, everyone will think I'm crazy if I go back with nothing to prove my journey."

Curdie said nothing else as they continued through the woods. If he agreed or disagreed, he didn't say anything. Glancing at Irene, he decided to change the subject, "I don't remember your necklace having feathers and petals."

"Grandmother gave me them," she answered with a soft smile, touching the mentioned decorations. "She said they will give me protection."

"Like your thread?"

"Something similar, yes."

Froglip didn't comment on their story, though he did pull a confused expression at their talk of the Sun-Princess's grandmother, feathers and petals, and thread.  _Sun-People are so strange,_  he thought to himself, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, I've changed part of the story after talking it over with one of my good friends. Originally, in this chapter, Turnip and Grazzlegritch (the blue goblin cat from the original film) would have joined in the journey. Their little "side-story" would have revealed that they visited each other in the past ten years, they both later learn about Froglip being sentenced to death, and Turnip witnesses the king's death and overhears about Irene's plan to travel to Skewer Summit with Froglip. Eventually, both cats would have joined the journey with their owners. However, upon thinking about it, I realized that the cats didn't really contribute much to the plot that couldn't be rewritten as if they weren't in at all, and that they added a bit too much "childishness" to the story that I think would have been out of place, if that makes sense. So, they've been written out of the story, though they will be mentioned throughout, as originally intended. As such, some chapters might be tricky to rewrite (this one being a prime example, which is why it's so short) but I'll do my best.


	15. Chapter 14 -- Skewer Summit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

While Froglip, Irene, and Curdie didn't think they would catch Dirtclaw off guard, what they didn't realize was that the wolf was actually fully anticipating their arrival.

Or in the very least, Froglip's arrival.

After he was injured, and had killed the Sun-King, Dirtclaw managed to fly away from the castle. Despite his pitch-black fur contrasting with the deep dark-blue, moonless midnight sky, no one saw the large creature sailing under the stars. Perhaps it was because everyone expected most creatures, including birds, to be fast asleep. No one would expect a large wolf with wings flying across the sky.

The sun had come up over the horizon by the time Dirtclaw saw his destination: Skewer Summit.

It was a huge mountain, appearing like it was made of giant shards of rock, piled up and stuck out like spiky, wet fur. The base of the mountain was surrounded by trees and plains. Further away was a river that curved gently around the mountain, as if shielding one side of it from intruders that were too afraid to swim across. Dirtclaw had also recalled seeing a Sun-Person's house near the river, though he was never compelled to investigate. He had never seen the inhabitant—the only reason he knew it was occupied was because he saw smoke coming from the tall stack on the roof, and had seen more evidence of something living there—and it didn't bother him. It would have been a waste of time, unless it deliberately bothered him. Then, all bets would be off.

As soon as he had seen the mountain, Dirtclaw tilted his wings forward and bent his head and chest down, propelling his body to the ground. When he was close enough to the dirt below, he pumped his wings back to slow down his fall until he finally felt the Earth beneath his paws. He groaned in pain as he lifted his right paw, remembering that it had been injured the previous night.

Now that the world was lit entirely with light, he was able to see the extent of the damage. The middle of his paw was swollen, and though the bleeding had stopped by now, some fluid still leaked from the wound. From what he could see, it was a straight, deep gash across his toes, and was colored an angry red. Though the pain was far more bearable compared to the previous night, he still was unable to set it on the ground, let alone put weight on it. He knew, for sure, it would scar once it was fully healed. But for now, it was a painful annoyance.

He gave the wound a few more licks before limping up the mountain. High above the base of the mountain—though not at all near the top—was the large entrance to a cave. The opening had a large, flat ledge in front of it. There was a large, stone statue flanking each side of the cave entrance. They were both ghastly, intimidating creatures, larger than Dirtclaw even, who was far larger than normal wolves. The statues' eyes were white crystals; though they were useless in the daytime, they glowed almost sinisterly in the dark of the night. Their faces were curled into open-mouthed snarls, and it was easy to imagine them growling angrily at any intruder that dared to come to the mountainside. The tips of their large hands and feet ended in long, thick, sharp claws that would surely slice flesh easily as if it were made of butter.

Glancing at the stone statues indifferently, Dirtclaw continued to pad into the cave. Inside, he could see crystals jutting out from the wall, all different shapes and sizes, lighting up the inside of the mountain with a soft yellow-tinted glow. Smaller cave entrances littered the side of the main tunnel, and further down the tunnel was a giant room.

It was obvious to anyone that the caves weren't naturally-carved over time; they were made by man... or something related. But for now, it was the home to the winged-wolf and his pack.

Dirtclaw's ears perked up at a sound coming from deeper in the mountain: growls. Questioning and warning growls. He stopped, growled back, and let out a gruff, short bark. It was a warning one, one that clearly stated that he was bigger, stronger, and more dangerous than the challengers, and that they should tread lightly.

Deep inside the cave, he could hear the click of claws creep closer to him. Two wolves crept out of the shadows towards Dirtclaw. The older of the two wolves was silver with darker speckling, a black nose bridge, ear-tips, and claws; and yellow eyes. He had a wise appearance and mentality, and acted as a leader to the younger wolves, at least under Dirtclaw's leadership. As soon as he saw the winged wolf, his curled snout relaxed and his tail relaxed, though he didn't show any fear, or any sort of expression, aside from indifference.

The other, younger wolf was very dark-brown in color, with a black mask, legs, and claws, orange eyes, and a lighter patch on his forehead. While he was one of the younger wolves, he was also one that had recently became an adult. So, he still had some of the immaturity and inexperience of an adolescent, but was old enough to learn the ways of the pack. He was mostly known for being impatient, yet eager to learn and please. He also changed his expression when he saw Dirtclaw, but he looked far more nervous, as he realized the implications of treating him like an intruder, despite not seeing him immediately.

Both wolves approached Dirtclaw slowly, their tails flicking between dangling straight down and being held out straight, and their heads lowered slightly and their ears flicked back. They stopped several paw-steps in front of the winged wolf, who stood tall and with his ears perked forward. He stared down at them, and lowered his tail and wagged it slightly.

 _[Welcome back, Dirtclaw,]_  the silver wolf grunted, licking once at Dirtclaw's snout in greeting. The dark-brown wolf did so as well, though he was far more nervous than his companion.

 _[Greetings, Stormcloud and Riverrush,]_  Dirtclaw nodded, glancing between the older and younger wolves.  _[I presume the wolves are still hunting?]_

 _[Yes,]_  Stormcloud answered,  _[the seven wolves are still out on a hunt.]_

_[Excellent. When they've arrived home with their catch, I want everyone to come to the main cave.]_

_[Yes sir,]_  Stormcloud flicked his tail slightly and turned to go down a different tunnel.

Riverrush turned to follow him, but then paused and asked Dirtclaw,  _[How did your paw get injured?]_

Stormcloud froze and glared back at the younger wolf with a warning growl. However, Dirtclaw answered curtly,  _[All will be revealed.]_  He limped further down the main tunnel, tail held up high and wagging slightly. At least he was still in a good mood.

 _[How many times must I tell you? Do not ask him useless questions!]_  Stormcloud snarled, curling his lips back to reveal his fangs as his ears stuck straight up and his fur bristled.

 _[So? He didn't seem angry about it,]_  Riverrush shrugged dismissively. However, he still crouched low to the ground, pinned his ears back, and flicked his tail between his legs.

 _[And you were lucky for that,]_  the older wolf huffed, nipping harshly at the dark-brown wolf's snout.  _[Had he been in a worse mood, you would have gotten harsher than that,]_  he continued as Riverrush whimpered in pain and pawed at his face.

_[Aren't you the least bit curious as to what happened to him?]_

_[Of course I am. But I'm not foolish enough to simply ask him. Don't you think he will tell us what happened during the meeting later? Had it been a simple, unrelated injury, he would have been far crosser with you.]_

_[I... I guess I hadn't thought of it.]_

Stormcloud sighed with a shake of his head, and licked the lighter patch on Riverrush's forehead.  _[And that is your greatest flaw, Riverrush. You don't think before you say or do anything. That is something you need to learn, and learn fast. It has barely been six seasons since Dirtclaw has joined our pack-]_

_[-and two seasons since we took Skewer Summit.]_

_[Don't interrupt me,]_  Stormcloud admonished, quirking an eyebrow.  _[But regardless, yes. And that means you should have shaped up since then. I get the feeling that Dirtclaw is planning something.]_

 _[What do you mean?]_  Riverrush asked, cocking his head.

_[Think about it: he leaves us for several days, stating that he needs to do something on his own. Not to mention he flies, thus he is either going somewhere far, or needs to get to his destination quick.]_

_[Or both.]_

_[Precisely. And then when he returns, he is injured, and requests a meeting once the entire pack is present. He has something big to say, and I believe it is related to whatever his trip was.]_

_[Well... what do you think it is he has to say?]_

_[I can't say,]_  Stormcloud shrugged, padding to the entrance of the mountain cave. Riverrush followed close behind as they exited the mountain. They both sat down at the edge of the overhang, watching over the trees down below.  _[But the the rest of the pack should return soon, and with food. So, hopefully we won't have to wait for long.]_

 _[I hope they bring back elk,]_  he remarked excitedly, wagging his tail as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Stormcloud chuckled warmly.  _[Well, if it's one thing you know, Riverrush, it's good food.]_

The two wolves gazed over the forests and plains, though Riverrush glanced over his shoulder uneasily every now and then.  _[Those stone... things, they creep me out.]_

Stormcloud simply grunted in reply, as if he had heard this plenty of times before. Undeterred, the younger wolf stood up again and turned around to look at the stone creatures with narrowed eyes. His ears were pinned back so they were flat against his head, and his tail stuck out away from his body nervously.  _[It's like they know what we did-]_

 _[-oh, rubbish!]_  Stormcloud snorted, standing and shaking himself off.  _[They're just stone carvings. They aren't alive in any sense.]_

 _[I know that,]_  Riverrush whined.  _[But still, it's their eyes. It's like they're staring into my soul-]_

 _[-then don't look at them!]_  the older wolf barked in frustration, startling his companion.  _[Riverrush, they're stone! They don't think, they don't feel; they aren't alive at all! They don't know anything because they aren't alive. Now, I'm going to sit here and wait for the hunting party to return home. If you're so uncomfortable around the stone statues, you're welcome to leave. If you wish to stay, however, keep quiet about them, and about Dirtclaw and his business.]_  With a huff, he sat back down heavily and starred over the ledge of the mountain.

Glancing back at the statues, Riverrush inched along until he was next to Stormcloud again, and sat back down. Although he could swear he felt the gaze of the statues on his back, he didn't say anything more about them. He simply watched out for the rest of the pack to return home, his belly growling in anticipation for what they caught.


	16. Chapter 15 -- Hunt

Far away from the mountain, where Stormcloud and Riverrush sat vigilant, a pack of seven wolves stalked through the dry grass. Their eyes were on the prey they had been tracking for several days: a herd of deer. They were all about the same size of the wolves, if not smaller, and were ranging between red and gray-brown in color. Some of them were bucks, and there were a few fawns.

The leader in the hunting pack was a reddish-orange wolf, with a white muzzle, a darker-colored mask, and black speckled across his shoulders, down his back, and on the tip of his tail. His eyes were golden-brown, and his snout was slightly-twisted as if it had been broken in the past. The accompanying wolves were different shades of brown, yellow, and gray; two were female, and the rest were males.

The lead wolf, named Clayrock, paused at the edge of brush. His tail gently flipped up and then down, causing the other wolves to stop behind him. The herd of deer they had been hunting had stopped to graze. Clayrock's eyes darted between each deer until he spotted one large buck. He had a deep, oozing wound on his leg, and was limping on said leg a little ways away from the herd as he took a few step to graze. It looked like a recent injury, but it was still healing, and so made him a liability among his herd.

Clayrock let out a small growl and turned his snout to the limping buck; this one would be dinner for them and their pack. The accompanying wolves growled in response, turning to face the buck. The lead wolf began creeping on the chosen prey; his hunting pack followed him, glancing at the herd every now and again in case they needed to warn him about the herd potentially attacking to save their cohort. It didn't happen often, but they didn't want to take any chances.

At one point, they were spotted, and the herd took off. The wolves followed behind immediately, eyes completely focused on the hunt. The lame buck was limping as fast as he could, trying to keep up, but he was slowing down fast. His herd took no notice of him, practically ignoring him as they fled to escape the predators.

Finally, Clayrock leapt at the buck and grabbed his injured leg with his jaws, clamping down hard. The buck cried out in pain and kicked back at the wolf. He let go and jumped back, barely avoiding the buck's sharp hooves scraping against his face.

But while he had grabbed his leg, further injuring his prey, the two female wolves, a pair of nearly-identical dusty-brown sisters, rounded around the buck and stood their ground, growling and snapping at him. When he lunged his head at them, trying to skewer them with his rack of antlers, they jumped to the side. By this time, the herd was long gone.

A few other wolves leapt onto the buck and sunk their teeth and claws into his flesh. They had caught him by surprise, so he fell to the ground with a thud. Clayrock pounced onto his neck and grabbed his throat in his jaws, biting down hard. The buck wheezed and kicked out, but the orange wolf kept a tight grip, and the other wolves were keeping him pinned. If anyone were to happen upon them, they would see a mountain of seven wolves piled on top of a large buck, who continued to squirm and wheeze for his freedom.

But soon, he stopped struggling.

Once their prey had been successfully killed, Clayrock let go, tipped his head back, and let out a loud howl. The six accompanying wolves joined in. Once the echoes of the howls faded away, several of the wolves grabbed the buck, and Clayrock began leading them back to Skewer Summit. Luckily, since the herd had led them in zigzags and curves, it didn't take them several days to get back home; it only took them several hours instead.

By the time they were home, and starting to climb up the slope leading into the mountain, the sun was beginning to set. Riverrush bounded to his feet, wagging his tail excitedly.  _[They're here! They've returned with food!]_

 _[Don't just stand there, shouting!]_  Stormcloud snapped, though his tail wagged as well as his stomach growled in anticipation.  _[Go down there and help them bring it up!]_

As Riverrush ran down the slope to the hunting pack, Stormcloud padded into the tunnels and found Dirtclaw lounging one deep cave, licking at his paw. It looked as swollen as it did when he arrived back home, but it had scabbed over completely now.  _[Clayrock and the hunting pack have returned with a large buck.]_  the gray wolf announced.

 _[Excellent,]_  Dirtclaw grinned, pushing himself up onto his feet—though he still raised his injured paw,  _[once everyone has eaten, call them into the main cave.]_

 _[Yes, Dirtclaw,]_  Stormcloud nodded, turning back around to exit the mountain.

Dirtclaw took a deep breath and let out a loud, long howl before limping after Stormcloud. The walls and tunnels of the cave caused the howl to increase in volume and echo multiple times over, making it seem as if the mountain was full of wolves. As he stepped out onto the large ledge, several other wolves came running out of the tunnels and towards the entrance to the mountain. They were of varying ages—though there were no pups younger than a year—and colors, though they all had one thing in common: they were all hungry.

Including the hunting pack of seven wolves, Stormcloud, Riverrush, and Dirtclaw, the pack equated to fifteen wolves. Though it was a small pack, Dirtclaw made good use of them.

Soon, fifteen wolves were grabbing at and pulling meat off of the bones of the buck. Some of them were shoving others aside, and growling and snapping at each other as they fought to try and fill their stomachs. Being vastly larger than the other wolves, Dirtclaw was practically able to step over the wolves to get his share, though he had to snarl at two or three wolves to get out of his way. Within minutes, all that was left were a pile of bones and antlers.

Dirtclaw grabbed a large leg bone and limped back into the cave. Seeing as everyone was finished with their food, Stormcloud stood up, lapped the blood off of his jowls, and announced with a bark,  _[Dirtclaw wants all of us to come into the main cave for a meeting.]_

All of the wolves stood up and followed the gray wolf into the tunnel—some of which were carrying bones and antlers in their mouths—and into the cave, where Dirtclaw currently lay, gnawing on one end of his bone and holding the other end down with his good front paw. The whole pack sat or lay down around the cave, licking and chewing on their leftovers as well.

Licking at his teeth, Dirtclaw raised his head and let out a short, loud bark. All heads turned to him, ears perked up and alert.  _[Now that everyone is here, and we have food in our bellies, I'm sure you are very eager and curious to learn why I left you all several days ago, and returned with an injury, hm?]_

Several wolves barked in agreement.  _[Well, you may recall my life-story that I had told you when I joined your pack. And you also may recall how I spoke of wishing to exact revenge against my enemies, yes?]_

The pack agreed, though this time looking confused.  _[Well, I returned to the goblin kingdom and exacted my initial plan: I murdered the goblin king and queen, and waited for the goblins to discover them and pin the blame on the Sun-People. Once they did that, their prince would, of course, wish to confront the Sun-People. Now, I was somewhat unsure of whether they would imprison or kill him. But luckily, he was merely imprisoned. My aim was to murder him when he was in a confined space. However... I was thwarted. He was able to get a hold of a Sun-Person weapon and fight back against me. I will admit it, he was able to power over me, and thus was able to injure me. However, I was able to murder the Sun-King. I know how Sun-People work; they don't believe creatures like me exist, and will sentence him to death.]_

 _[So... was he killed?]_  Riverrush asked, tilting his head slightly.

_[He won't be brought down so easily, I'm afraid. And I know for a fact he will do everything he can to escape, come find me, and kill me. But I invite him to, with open paws and wings. It took me only a day to return home. But as the goblin prince cannot fly, it will take him longer; much longer. So, in the next few days, we should all anticipate his arrival.]_

_[And if we see him coming?]_  Stormcloud inquired, playing with the deer rib with his paw.

 _[Don't kill him,]_  Dirtclaw growled sternly.  _[As I told that Sun-King before I sank my fangs into his throat, he is mine to kill! You will allow him into the mountain, but do not let him escape! Do not lay a single claw or tooth on him unless I deem it absolutely necessary. But even then... you are not to kill him. Is that understood?]_

All of the wolves barked firmly in reply.  _[Excellent,]_  He grinned, showing his white teeth. Though they had been licked clean after his meal, there were still splotches of blood and tiny flecks of meat on his lips and chin. He looked the very image of a dangerous animal, though he didn't merely need an image to let his enemies know he was dangerous. He knew it, his enemies knew it, and even the wolves lounging around him knew it.

And another thing the wolves knew was that if this goblin prince were just as their leader had described him, he wouldn't be killed without a fight. And if he was able to injure their mighty leader, he may be even more dangerous than Dirtclaw had initially let on. They all knew, whether it was the first thing on their minds or was a mere afterthought, that this upcoming fight would be something they would never forget.


	17. Chapter 16 -- Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

The day after Dirtclaw told his pack about what had happened to him, Irene, Curdie, and Froglip were still walking through the woods, bound for Skewer Summit. Froglip was in the lead, and Curdie and Irene were trailing behind. The runaway princess had a handful of berries that her best friend had helped her pick, and was eating them slowly, one at a time. The goblin was glancing around as they walked, pausing every now and then to move stones and large sticks to find bugs and grubs to eat and look over to see if they would make a good spear.

Curdie was whistling the familiar song he had sung all those years ago to frighten off the goblin pets when he first met Irene, and taught to the castle's guards and knights to have the advantage against the goblins. Either he didn't notice it, or he chose to ignore it, but Froglip was very irritated at his whistling. As everyone who knew about goblins knew, goblins hated singing and music of any kind. No one knew if it was because it hurt their ears, or if it was out of spite for humans seemingly having better singing than the cave-dwelling creatures. But any kinds of musical talents caused them to cover their ears and moan in pain and anger.

At the moment, Froglip was throwing glaring glances back at Curdie and growling through gnashed teeth. The young miner, however, was whistling happily, kicking up fallen leaves as he walked. Irene glanced between him and Froglip, and could just feel a fight beginning to brew. But before she could say anything, Curdie actually began singing, " _All that's strong inside us, that tells us wrong from right, becomes a song inside us, to chase away the night!_ "

As he began the song again, Froglip folded down his ears with his hands and glared forward with a groan. He dug his claws into his scalp as his lip curled angrily. Finally having enough, he stopped, spun around, and shouted, "Will you shut your damn mouth?!"

Irene and Curdie both jumped in surprise at the sudden shout, and the latter promptly stopped singing. But then he scoffed and asked, "Why should I?"

"Because I th'ay th'o," Froglip answered, planting his hands on his hips with a sniff.

"I can do whatever I want. I don't need to listen to you."

"I don't know if you're th'o thinheaded that you forgot, but  _you_  weren't th'uppoth'ed to come with u'th. Not to mention,  _I'm_  the leader, th'o I can tell you what to do."

"But humans are far superior goblins, so I cannot be ordered around by one," Curdie countered, crossing his arm.

"Enough of that! Both of you!" Irene suddenly screamed, stomping her foot childishly. Both Curdie and Froglip turned sharply to her. " _I_  was the one who suggested this venture, and  _I_  was the one who organized the truce with Froglip! Therefore,  _both_  of you should listen to me!"

"Oh? And what doth you decree, Th'un-Printh'eth'?" Froglip scoffed, gesturing exaggeratedly.

"Curdie,  _you_  stop singing and whistling! And Froglip,  _you_  leave Curdie alone!" she snapped, pointing to them in turn. "If all you two are going to be doing is arguing and antagonizing each other, it is going to be a very long journey! And I, for one, do not want to hear nothing but quarreling and shouting all day and night."

"How ironic that you're doing both," the goblin grumbled under his breath.

"Now then," she continued, ignoring his jibe, "I don't expect you two to get along at all. But I  _do_  expect you two to at least tolerate each other for the entire trip to Skewer Summit and back home. That means no fighting, please."

"You're right, Irene," Curdie nodded, looking slightly ashamed.

"Hmph, as you wish, Sun-Princess," Froglip snarked.

"Thank you," she nodded. "Lead the way, Prince Froglip."

With a snort, he tossed his head in the direction they were going, and they set off again. Without the arguing, singing, and whistling, and only the crunching of leaves under their feet, the atmosphere became quite tense.

"Sorry, Irene," Curdie said softly.

"I know it's difficult, Curdie," she answered. "But, Froglip's right in a tiny way, you didn't need to come along."

"No, but you're right, I  _do_  need to at least tolerate his existence. Especially since you're both in this together."

"I appreciate that, and you coming along."

"Are you afraid of him?" he whispered

"Well... truthfully, I suppose a little," she admitted in an equally-quiet voice, "I know we have our truce, but I am also not naive enough to think he will completely honor it. But at the very least, I know how to defend myself."

"Except for one thing: he's trying to make a spear. And if he's trying to make such a weapon, he probably knows very well how to use it."

"What would he have to gain from hurting or killing us though? He already knows that he doesn't have any revenge to exact against us, or my people."

"What about what happened ten years ago?"

At this, Irene went quiet. In all the commotion of the past several days, she had forgotten about the war between goblins and humans, and everything that had resulted in that war. Despite the nightmares she had experienced from what had happened ten years previously, the fact that she and Froglip both had parents dead, and ones that were killed by a common enemy, made her feel like they had something of a kinship. Maybe only a shadow of one, but nonetheless.

But Curdie was right, Froglip was unpredictable. And since he knew how to use such a weapon—especially when it didn't seem like he knew how to use one all those years ago—and if he was irritated or angered too much, he could retaliate. And even if he didn't have his weapon, he was still strong enough, and his claws sharp enough, to cause damage.

"And that is why both of us cannot antagonize him too much," she finally answered, finishing her last berry. "There is only so many times I can remind him of our cause and truce before that beings to annoy him as well."

Curdie nodded in agreement as Irene wiped the berry juice off of her hands and onto her pants, staining the fabric. "I will admit, maybe the prospect of killing the creature that killed his parents will entice him to behave. But on the other hand, as I said the other day, he won't be the most dangerous foe you'll face."

"Dirtclaw," Irene sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"How are you holding up with your new haircut?" Curdie asked humorously.

"It's a necessary evil, I suppose," she giggled. "My head is certainly lighter, at any rate. Though my neck is cold."

"You should have brought a scarf."

"I guess I didn't think about it," she blushed.

Ahead of the laughing friends, Froglip paused as he found a large, long stick. He tried to bend it, balanced it on his fingers, and stared down the length of it. With a satisfied nod, he glanced back and asked, "Do you still have that dagger, Sun-Princess? I finally found a pole for a spear."


	18. Chapter 17 -- Crafting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

The trio eventually decided to take a break, both to eat lunch and so Froglip could craft his spear. After reassuring Curdie, with a roll of his eyes, that he wouldn't try to hurt anyone with it, the goblin took the dagger Irene offered, and set to work on forming his weapon.

They all sat on the ground or on large rocks and logs in a large circle. Curdie had taken Irene's bag and was sifting through the food to try and make a meal. She had pulled one of her books out of the bag and started reading it. But as she heard the sounds of a blade running against and cutting through wood, she peeked over the top of her book at Froglip curiously.

The long stick he picked lay across his thighs, and he was carving any bumps and stray twigs away. Then, he ran the dagger down the length, a little bit at a time, until the whole thing was shaved of its bark. When his eyes looked up to meet Irene's, she ducked behind her book, cheeks flushing at being caught.

But whether he saw her watching or not, he didn't say. Instead, he said, "Now I want the spearhead."

"Why?" Curdie immediately asked, pausing in his meal-making.

"Because I need a spearhead for my spear, obviously," Froglip answered slowly, as if the miner were stupid.

"Can't you use a rock?"

"Why use a rock when I have a perfectly good, albeit Sun-Person, spearhead in that bag?"

Not wishing for another fight, Irene stood up, took the spearhead from the bag, and handed it to Froglip. He wordlessly began chipping away at its base and the pole until the spearhead's base came to a flattened point, and the pole was split down the middle.

Having decided the rope Irene packed wasn't adequate, Froglip left his materials where he was sitting and left to go find something else to finish the spear with. "Why did you give it to him?" Curdie asked once the goblin was out of earshot.

"I didn't want you two to begin fighting," she said, turning a page in her book.

"Does this mean you trust him?" he looked accusingly at her.

"In order for this truce to work, there needs to be some level of trust. So, yes, I suppose I do trust him. Mind you, only a tiny bit."

"Enough to let him make a dangerous weapon, it seems."

She glared at her best friend, to his surprise. "Curdie, I am trying my best to be patient with the both of you. And you two going at each others throats is not helping in the slightest."

"I'm not right now, I'm-"

"-questioning my judgment. I understand that you are worried for me, and I appreciate it. Truly. But even if you can't trust Froglip, at least trust  _me_ , please? I got us out of the goblin mountain, remember?"

"But that was different. You had your grandmother's thread; out here, we don't have it. Unless it's guiding you this time?"

Irene glanced at her ring with a sigh. It hadn't glowed or showed its thread ever since her grandmother visited her the night before they left. "Not this time," she shook her head.

"All we have is the directions of a goblin, who," he held up his hands as he spoke, "evidently hasn't ever been to Skewer Summit himself."

"What would he have to gain from lying and leading us out in the middle of nowhere? And possibly killing us? It won't kill Dirtclaw, which is the main goal of this endeavor, might I remind you."

Curdie sighed sadly, and separated the food into three meals: a chunk of bread, a slab of dried meat, and some berries. They also had the skin of water. "Irene, you say you aren't completely naive, but I fear you are still a little naive, if I may be honest."

She furrowed her eyebrows and gripped her book tightly. "Well, my own handmaiden, Angelica, told me herself that Skewer Summit is real. If anything, I trust her with my life."

Before Curdie could answer, Froglip returned. In his hand was a bundle of long, thin, bark peelings. "We need a fire."

Irene and Curdie both looked at him in bewilderment. "Did I stutter?" he raised an eyebrow.

"What do you need a fire for?" she asked.

"To fire-harden it, thus making it stronger and last longer. What, you've never made a spear, Sun-Princess?" he smirked as he shoved the spearhead into the split pole.

"Leave her be!" Curdie snapped.

The goblin simply rolled his eyes as he used the dagger to cut into a nearby tree. When the sap trickled out, he gathered it in one hand and slathered it along the length of the spear. By the time it was completely covered in sap, Curdie had begrudgingly made the fire.

Froglip sat by the fire and held the spear near the the base of the flames, slowly spinning it like it was a pig on a spit. When the pole would start to brown, he would move it along to a paler spot.

Irene munched on her food as she glanced between her book and Froglip. Soon, though, she forgot about her book, and watched as he continued on until the entire spear was slightly-brown. After that, he braced the spear against one of the large rocks, picked up a small, flat stone, and began briskly rub it against the pole. After several minutes of this, the pole was shiny and smooth. "If you stare long enough, I may catch fire," he remarked.

Irene jumped in surprise, nearly throwing her book into the fire. "S-sorry," she chuckled, brushing her hair back. "I just... you're right, I've never made a spear. I've never seen one made either. Does the fire really make it stronger?"

"Yes," he nodded. Now he took the fibers, and were wrapping and tying them tightly around the top of the spear where the spearhead was lodged into the split. "I've made several before I finally got the hang of it. Not to mention, I learned the methods when I was younger."

"But... wouldn't you have one made for you?"

He froze at this. "I mean, you asked if I didn't have servants to dress my wounds," she explained, thinking he was confused. "You, as royalty, would have servants for that, as well as crafting weapons for you."

Froglip didn't answer. He slowly continued tying the fibers around the spear, though his face melted into an odd expression, and his ears tilted downards. He looked both frustrated and mournful. Irene glanced at Curdie, who looked just as confused, and didn't she press the question further.

Once he was done tying the spearhead to the pole, he wordlessly stood and walked away from the camp, finished spear in hand. "What was that about?" Curdie asked incredulously.

"I don't know. Was I being too forward?"

"I figured he would brag about how he had everything done for him, and how he had servants to wait on him on hand and foot."

Irene didn't add onto the conversation. Instead, she pondered on Froglip's reaction to her question and statements. As her best friend had thought, she also figured he would have boasted about how many servants he had, and how they would do anything he told them to. From what Curdie had told her, he was very spoiled and beloved by his mother, so she would have given him only the absolute best. So why did he act so upset instead? Not to mention Curdie had mentioned that the goblin was acting quite different. He wasn't as spoiled or nearly as dramatic as he had been ten years ago.

 _Maybe after he failed to kidnap me and drown everyone, she stripped him of his servants? And that humbled him?_  Irene pondered. That seemed the most likely, and yet it still seemed almost unusual.

Just when she thought she had Froglip figured out, she found another hidden layer that surprised her.

After several minutes, he returned to the camp. Over his shoulders was the carcass of a red deer; the spear, wedged between his catch and shoulder, had blood on the end. "It works!" he said proudly, dropping the deer onto the ground. The sight of the dead animal, and the large thump it made upon hitting the ground, startled both Irene and Curdie.

But they certainly weren't complaining. It was more food, and fresh food at that.

Curdie stoked at the fire until it was blazing again, and Froglip skinned and sliced the deer into several portions. "How did you learn to hunt?" the miner asked as he cooked the pieces.

"I learned," the goblin answered shortly, wiping the blood off of his spear with grass. He took a large piece of deerskin, shaved off the fur, and wrapped it around the middle of the pole.

"Obviously," Curdie rolled his eyes.

Sighing heavily, Froglip continued, "If you two must know, I was exiled from my own home ten years ago. And you know why? Because I had failed our people. Flooding the mines and kidnapping the princess was my idea, and I couldn't help pull that off. My own mother banished me until I was to learn how to be a good leader. During that time, I had to—on my own, might I add—learn how to craft weapons, hunt, and skin and cook my own food.  _That_  is how I learned to hunt and properly make a spear."

Curdie and Irene were still silent once his rant was finished. Both had wide eyes and slacked jaws. What Irene had initially thought was actually too lenient, according to what Froglip's mother had done. He probably would have been just as upset if his servants were ordered to stop serving him, but she couldn't imagine being banished. Banished, and having to learn how to survive on your own. She couldn't even fathom any Sun-Person doing that to their own child.

It just further proved that goblins and Sun-People were drastically different.

As he finished strapping the skin to the spear, Froglip turned to look at the Sun-Princess. She was sitting on a fallen log, with what looked like bound scrolls on her lap. She was nibbling on a small portion of bread, and her teal eyes were darting back and forth. "What is that?" he asked.

She blinked in confusion at him. "This?" she asked, gesturing at the object. At his nod, she answered, "It's a book."

"It looks like scrolls that have been sewn together."

"Well, that's basically what a book is," she chuckled, eating the last of her food. "Your scrolls have writing on them?"

"Of course," he scoffed.

"And so do our books," she answered patiently. "They hold information, history, and sometimes stories."

"Of what?"

"Of anything. Beautiful maidens falling in love with ugly monsters, gallant rogues robbing from rich people and distributing to the poor. And this story," she tapped her fingernails against the page, "is one of my favorites: a young woman disguising herself as a man to fight in war in place of her father."

"Why does she have to disguise herself as a man?"

"Because women aren't allowed to fight in wars."

"Why ever not?" he snorted. "If a female goblin were told she couldn't fight in a war, it would be blasphemy! They're just as good of fighters as males are!"

"Well, goblins and Sun-People are very different."

"Obviously," he quipped. He scooted a little closer to her, perking his ears up in curiosity. "Why can't her father fight? What does she have to gain from fighting in his place?"

Smiling softly, the Sun-Princess asked, "Would you like me to read it to you?"

Froglip's face turned to an expression off bewilderment. The first thing he would have snapped would have been why she couldn't just tell him. She has obviously read the story before, as she stated it was one of her favorites. She probably read it so many times, she could tell it from her head.

But his curiosity eventually won out. "If you simply must," he shrugged dramatically.

She moved to the side so there was room on the log, and patted the space next to her. Glancing at the Sun-Boy, who was busy wrapping the meat they had cooked in dried grass, Froglip sat next to the Sun-Princess and looked into the book. The writings inside looked somewhat similar to goblin text, but just different enough he couldn't read it.

She flipped all of the pages until she was on the first one. Clearing her throat, she read the title, "'The Ballad of Hua Mulan.'"

As Irene slowly read the tale to Froglip, Curdie listened halfheartedly. Though he didn't say or do anything, he heard everything that was said between the princess and the goblin. He was very surprised when she offered to read the story to him, and even more surprised when Froglip sat next to her to listen. But he didn't say anything.

He simply sat close by, keeping an open eye and ear in case anything should happen.


	19. Ch 18 -- Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

After a few minutes of eating and resting, the trio were off walking again. Only this time, Irene walked closer to Froglip, reading aloud from her book. At some point during their journey, she had finished reading  _The Ballad of Hua Mulan_. Once the tale was finished, Froglip asked if she had other books. "Yes," she answered, patting her satchel. "I packed a few of them, actually."

"What stories do _they_ have?"

She opened her satchel and rifled through the books. "I have  _The Tales of Robin Hood_ ,  _Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece_ , and  _Romeo and Juliet_. I only had time to gather a few books. And some of the books I described earlier I had to leave at home"

He was silent for a few seconds before asking, "What's the last one about?"

She smiled softly, pulling out the book. The cover resembled a stained glass window, and depicted a woman standing on a balcony, while a man stood on the ground beneath her. They were reaching out for each other, with their fingers barely grazing one another. " _Romeo and Juliet_. It is a romantic story of two lovers. Their families are at war with each other, however."

He curled his lip and stuck his tongue out as if he were disgusted. "The other two sound more interesting."

Giggling, she replaced the book she was holding and pulled out a thicker book. "Father would read me a story from this book before I fell asleep for years. Even after I had memorized them all, and after I learned to read. He only stopped because Lootie—she was my nurse years ago—thought I should read them myself. But even though I know every one of them by heart, I still love them."

He saw that the book was more worn than the other two books. The edges of the pages were ripped and curled, and the cover appeared to have faded and been repainted at least once, if not twice. He also noticed that the Sun-Princess held the book more carefully than the others, and looked at it with affection and love. "What stories are in there?"

"Oh, many! The Greeks had so many myths and legends. Gods, monsters, romance, battles, heroes; I never get tired of reading them." She opened the book and flipped through the pages. As well as words, Froglip saw pictures every now and again, but couldn't quite decipher them quick enough.

Finally, she stopped on one page. He couldn't read the title, or the rest of the wrods, but the picture was of a young Sun-Woman standing in a field of flowers. Behind her, in the shadows, stood an older Sun-Man. " _The Abduction of Persephone_ ," she said, tracing a finger along the title. "One of my favorites."

" _That_  one?" he quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "An abduction? I'm assuming she was abducted by that Sun-Man?" he asked, pointing to the shadowed figure.

"It may seem like a tragic tale, yes," she nodded. "But it's so much more. Would you like to hear it?"

"... I suppose," he shrugged.

Curdie frowned at the duo walking in front of him. He watched as Froglip inched closer to Irene, looking at the pages over her shoulder while she read from the book. As he was taller than her, the tips of his hair brushed against the top of her head, and he saw him almost place a hand on her shoulder before evidently deciding not to.

His eyebrows furrowed in anger and frustration. Even if the goblin was simply looking at the book and listening as the princess read him the story, he still distrusted him. He kept a close eye on him, ready to pull him away should he even lay a hand on her.

Even if Irene had a shred of trust in him, it didn't mean Curdie did.

Froglip had mixed feelings about the story. It turned out that the Sun-Woman in the picture, Persephone, who was a fledgling god, was captured by Hades, a god of the underworld and the Sun-Man in the shadows. While she stayed with him, and they fell in love much to his surprise, her mother, Demeter, a goddess of harvest and growth, let the Earth become barren and dying because she missed her daughter. Eventually, a compromise was made so that Persephone would stay half the year with Hades, whom she eventually married, and the other half with her mother; when she stayed in the underworld, it was akin to the fall and winter on Earth, whereas it was spring and summer when she was with Demeter.

The tale reminded Froglip of similar legends goblins had about how things worked; how the seasons came and went, day turned to night, and certain animals were created. It never occurred to him that Sun-People would have their own legends. Especially ones from a different part of the world, as Irene had explained. "Of course, not all of the stories in this book are like that. Some are simply stories. Such as this one," she trailed off, leafing through the book again until she found what she was looking for. The image for this one was a man wandering through a labyrinth, trailing a red thread behind him. Around the corner was a huge man with the head of a bull, looking ready to attack.

" _Theseus and the Minotaur_ ," she narrated.

"What th-what is that creature?" he asked in utter confusion, gesturing at the creature.

"The Minotaur. This story tells how it was created."

"And Theseus? Who's he?"

"If I told you, it would spoil the story," Irene winked with a smile. She was about to narrate the story when she had a thought. It was a crazy idea, and she could be ridiculed for it. "Would you like me to teach you to read? So you could read it yourself?"

Froglip froze for a moment, looking very stunned. The first thing he thought to do was laugh, but it never came out. Instead, he found himself seriously considering letting her teach him. If he learned to read Sun-People language, it could prove to be very beneficial, especially if he was allowed back with his clan. After all, unless he had a secret cousin or other family member, they were still without a king.

And he had been thinking about something else: if he was able to kill Dirtlcaw, and even bring back his body, he would be hailed as a great hero and warrior to the goblins; but most of all, a leader. Someone who was the opposite of what Suevite called him: strong and competent. Killing the biggest enemy the goblins had, after the Sun-People, would prove to his people that he could indeed be a good, feared king.  _Perhaps it was a good thing the Sun-Princess suggested this journey_ , he had thought.

But if he also learned to read Sun-People language, he would be able to read messages that the goblins could steal from the Sun-People. They would have an advantage over them should another war spark between them, and the goblins could have the advantage over them. Obviously he wouldn't tell the Sun-Princess this, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to learn it. And if the goblins scoffed at the notion of him being taught by a Sun-Person, he would remind them of the advantage he would hold.

Before he could answer her though, he heard the Sun-Boy laughing behind them. When the Sun-Princess and he looked back at him, in confusion and irritation respectively, he had one arm wrapped around his belly and his other hand against his forehead, laughing as though he had heard the funniest joke in the world. "What's so funny, Sun-Boy?"

Ignoring the goblin, he calmed himself, turned to the Sun-Princess, and said kindly, "You'll be wasting your time, Irene. Goblins are too stupid to learn how to read."

Her eyes widened in astonishment and her jaw slacked. "What the hell do you mean by that?!" Froglip snapped. "If any creature'th are th'tupid, it'th Th'un-People! After all, you all have little th'urvival in'thtinct'th, if any at all. You need to be covered from head to toe becau'the you're too cold, even in the summer, and you need metal armor becau'the you're th'o th'oft! Th'oft in your flesh, your heart'th, _and_ in the head'th!"

"No survival instincts? Ha, that's a laugh! If we're so weak, how did we beat you so easily all those years ago? If anything,  _you're_  the ones who are weak!"

A deep snarl bubbled from Froglip's throat as he gnashed his teeth. "Weak, are we?!" he shouted, pushing the Sun-Boy back with a hand. To his credit, he didn't stumble backwards but a step. "I could th'imply tap you on the throat with one claw, and you would bleed out like a stuck boar!"

"But who are the ones with easy weaknesses? All I have to do is sing one note and stomp on your foot, and you would be wailing on the ground like a baby."

"I could wring your neck before you even opened your mouth to breath!"

"Again, I could barely step on your feet and you would flop like a dead fish!"

"I'd love to th'ee you try, Th'un-Boy!"

"It would be all too easy. You're not wearing stone shoes like your crazy mother-!"

"-Don't you dare th'ay anything about my mother!" Froglip grabbed the front of Curdie's shirt in both fists and smashed his nose against his. "I'd wager your mother'th a'th weak a'th any other Th'un-Per'thon!"

"Get out of my face with your horrid breath," Curdie winced, pushing the goblin's face away. "And at least my mother didn't throw me out because I failed a task!"

"Enough!" Irene pushed herself between them and pushed them away, a hand on their chests. "This fighting is not helping! If anything, you're both making this trip unbearable! If you two are going to begin fighting every time someone says something the other doesn't like, I may simply gag the two of you until this is all over! If you don't want that, stop. Fighting! Don't look say anything to each other; don't even look at each other! Because I swear, if I hear so much as a muttered insult, I'll grab both your ears and knock your heads together until you see stars." Sighing sharply, she stomped away, picked up her book up from where she dropped it, shoved it back in her satchel, and strode off in the direction they were going.

Glaring at each other one last time, Froglip and Curdie followed after her. The goblin caught up to Irene and muttered under his breath, "You wanted to teach me to read Sun-People language?"

Though she was still seething with irritation, Irene turned to him with a small smile. "If you want me to, I will. But not now, I'll wait until we stop for another meal. If you're going to learn how to read our language, you'll need to learn our alphabet. And seeing as I didn't pack a pen, ink, nor parchment, I'll have to write it in dirt with a stick. Or maybe on your bandage with a stick and berry juice. Speaking of which, we should have that changed when we stop."

Froglip glanced at his still-wrapped forearm. The bandage was indeed becoming dirty, though it was hard to tell the difference between dirt and dried, brown blood. And his arm itched under it, though she always told him to stop when he tried to scratch it.

As if reading his mind, she added, "When we stop and I'm able to take off that bandage, it could be aired out and the poultice replaced. That should take care of any itch."

"When will the stitches be taken out?"

"When I decide that your bite is healing well enough that the stitches aren't needed anymore."

"Irene, can I speak to you privately... as it were?" Curdie asked, now walking beside Irene.

Sighing, Irene gestured Froglip ahead. Rolling his eyes, the goblin walked faster, and Irene and Curdie allowed themselves to fall behind a little. "Irene... I'm sorry for fight-"

"-you say you're sorry, and you said it before as well. And yet you keep provoking him and letting him provoke you. Next thing I know, you're at each others' throats." She turned to her best friend with a cold gaze. "Curdie, I'm certain I'm not asking too much when I say this: you need to stop fighting. Don't instigate any fights against him, and don't let him provoke you into a fight. I am trying to be patient; I know how much you two hate each other. Again, I'm not asking you to be best friends. All I'm asking is for you to at least tolerate each other to and from Skewer Summit."

"I know, Irene-"

"-I hope so. Both your fighting is making this journey not only weary, but more importantly, slow. I am asking you—no,  _begging_  you, Curdie, to stop fighting."

"I'm not the only one fighting, Irene."

"I know, and I _will_ talk to Froglip as well. You're not the only one I'm disappointed in, trust me. But you're my best friend, and I've known you longer than him. That is why I expect you to behave." With that, she walked faster until she was beside Froglip again. He could see them talking, with the goblin protesting a few times, but the princess being stern and holding strong.

Although he understood what Irene was asking of him, and he secretly commended her for attempting to get along with Froglip, even despite all he had done, he still felt protective of her. Even though she had grown into a strong, brave women, he still felt the need to protect her. He may not be in love with her, but he still loved her as a friend and sister.


	20. Chapter 19 -- Flirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

While Irene taught Froglip to read Sun-People language and Curdie watched them in both protectively and in suspicion, several wolves up in Skewer Summit were banded together. Among them were Stormcloud, Riverrush, and Clayrock. They all sat on the ledge overlooking the territory below the mountain, and Dirtclaw before the opening into the mountain.  _[Until we know for sure Froglip is coming, we won't do anything different,]_  he said, flicking the end of his tail.  _[So, I want you all patrolling around the territory. As usual, half of you will go to the sunset, and the other half to the sunrise. Once you have passed each other twice in this circle, you may come home. However, should you see anything suspicious, you will report to me at once.]_

 _[Especially if we see Froglip?]_  Riverrush asked, wagging his tail slightly.

 _[What kind of idiotic question is that?]_  Dirtclaw growled, curling his lips back.  _[Of course if you see Froglip! But as I said, do not engage! Either let him come to the mountain, or guide him. When the sun begins to set, I'll send the other wolves on the same patrol. We'll repeat this until he comes; I don't want us caught off guard. Now go,]_ he gestured away with his snout.

Barking once in reply, the wolves bounded down the side of the mountain and split off into two groups; one was led by Stormcloud, and the other by Clayrock. As Dirtclaw had told them to, one group ran east, and the other west.

Once the groups had disappeared, Dirtclaw yawned as he stretched first his front legs, then his back legs, and finally his wings. Shaking himself off and sighing, he stepped further out onto the ledge and flopped onto the flat rock. He let a rare smile spread across his face as the sunlight warmed both the rock and his black fur, making him grow sleepy.

However, just as he closed his eyes, he heard a faint bark. Twitching one ear back, he heard it again, this time clearer.  _[Dirtclaw, are you out there?]_

Growling under his breath, he sat up and shook his head, waking himself, and sat back down. Behind him, a female wolf stepped out of the mountain and onto the ledge. She was sandy-colored with darker markings on her lower-back, ears, and around her eyes, which were yellow-green. Her legs, belly, cheeks, and muzzle were lighter-colored, and she had a few bite scars on her muzzle.  _[There you are,]_  she smiled, trotting over to him.

 _[Mudbank,]_  he regarded with a slight nod.

 _[I'm sorry I couldn't attend one of the patrols,]_  she said, not sounding very sorry at all, as she strolled up next to him.

 _[You weren't present when I called some of the wolves,]_  Dirtclaw said as he stared out over the forest.  _[At any rate, you and your sister are more useful in hunts. The hunting pack tell me how you two are able to keep prey at bay. Besides, you'll be in the next patrol tonight.]_

 _[We only aim to please you, Dirtclaw,]_  Mudbank smiled,  _[in any way at all.]_  She slowly padded around him, nudging at his side with her hip. His ears stood straight up, the fur on the back of his neck bristled, and he growled in warning. But either she didn't notice, or she simply didn't care. She nudged at his snout with hers, and licked his cheek, wagging her tail.

Suddenly, she found herself on her back, with his jaws biting into her throat. It wasn't tight enough that she was choking on air and bleeding, but enough to be a stern warning. He was also pinning her down with one paw. She could feel the power behind his jaws and paw. Being larger than even the biggest wolf in their pack, and having wings, he was immensely strong. If he wanted to, he could snap her neck without even using half of his strength.

After a few seconds, he let her throat go, but kept his paw firmly on her side.  _[You will never do anything like that again,]_  he snarled slowly.  _[Understood?]_

 _[Y-yes, Dirtclaw,]_  she answered shakily.

Snorting, Dirtclaw lifted his paw off of her and stepped around her. He bit at her snout as he passed her, making her whimper in surprise.  _[I have far better things to do than get molested by a horny bitch!]_  he snapped, running to the edge of the ledge. He leaped off of it and pumped his wings until he took flight.

After several seconds, Mudbank finally slowly rolled to her feet. She shook herself off and fell into a sit. Feeling blood slowly trickle out of the bite, she lapped at her jaws to clean her wound.

Another wolf slowly came out of the mountain. She looked identical to Mudbank, except her eyes were gray and one of her ears had a slice in it.  _[I told you he wouldn't like it,]_  she sighed, walking up to her twin sister.

_[Shut up, Sandstone]_

_[Everyone knows Dirtclaw only has one thing on his mind: revenge. He has no interest in females, or even having pups.]_

Mudbank said nothing. She knew her sister was right; there had been other females who tried to flirt with Dirtclaw, simply because he was the strongest of the wolves—even though he wasn't a pure wolf, having wings and the ability to speak to Uprights. The first time it happened, he wasn't as snappy, though he was still firm about not wanting to mate with anyone. But it evidently didn't get through their heads, as evidenced by Sandstone's twin sister.

 _[Why do you want to mate with him anyway?]_  Sandstone had been one of the females who weren't interested in Dirtclaw.

_[He's... he's strong, smart, and-]_

_[-not interested,]_  her sister repeated, sitting down next to her.

_[But why? Surely any wolf would want descendants? Especially wolves like Dirtclaw.]_

_[You know as well as the rest of us that, again, he's only focusing on revenge. But there's something else: I think when he dies, he wants to be the only one known for what he did. He doesn't want descendants to share his legacy with. He may indeed be intelligent, but he's also greedy.]_

Mudbank's ears tilted back and she laid down flat.  _[I just... I just want to be a mother again.]_

Sandstone sighed softly and nuzzled her snout against her sister's cheek.  _[I know. I do_   _too.]_  She licked at the still-bleeding bite on her muzzle.  _[But if the male of your desires doesn't want the same thing as you do, you can't do anything to change that. And I highly doubt Dirtclaw will mate with you simply because you tell him you want pups. Not unless he'd do it for the good of the pack, at least in his terms. He would probably train them to be soldiers.]_

The fur on her sister's back bristled at the thought and her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth.  _[We already had our pups taken by those... those monsters!]_

_[I remember.]_

_[They were barely eating meat, and they were taken!]_  Mudbank suddenly leaped to her feet and paced back and forth along the ledge.  _[That's what they do! They take, and they take, and they give nothing back but misery and heartbreak!]_

_[And you think Dirtclaw will be any different? What if we had pups when he joined the pack? If he didn't begin training them to be fighters, that being a slim chance, he still wouldn't be nice to them. He would make life miserable for them.]_

Mudbank stopped pacing, though she still didn't look at her sister. Sighing, she sat down again.  _[… Should we have let him join? If he's all these terrible things... why did we let him join?]_

_[It wasn't our decision, Mudbank. He fought to get into the pack, and he won.]_

_[He had an unfair advantage, though! He's bigger than any of us, and he has wings!]_

_[But he still fought and won.]_  Sandstone chuckled as she moved until she was sitting next to her twin.  _[Earlier you were lamenting that Dirtclaw wasn't interested in mating, and now you're upset that he's part of our pack?]_

 _[Well... I don't know,]_  she shook her head.  _[I suppose I'm just nervous.]_

_[Nervous? About what?]_

_[About when that goblin comes.]_

_[Why? Are you nervous for Dirtclaw, or for the goblin?]_

_[Maybe for the goblin. I know he or his people did something to Dirtclaw, but if it was his people... perhaps he had little involvement. Maybe for Dirtclaw? He killed his parents, so he'll be out for blood no matter what. And if goblins are like the Uprights, he'll have a weapon on him. But...]_

_[… But?]_  she prodded.

_[… But I think I'm also worried for us. If Dirtclaw wins, where does that leave us? Dirtclaw will have had his revenge, so what will he want after? What will he do with us?]_

Sandstone turned away in thought. She hadn't thought of it before, but Mudbank was right. Everyone was so focused on what would happen in the near future that they forgot to consider what would happen after. What would happen to them indeed? Dirtclaw only needed them to help with his vengeance. Afterwards, he would have no need for them. Would he simply leave... or would he kill them all since they would have outlived their usefulness to them?

_[But on the other paw, what if he somehow loses? What do we have left?]_

_[You're right,]_  Sandstone nodded,  _[and this place isn't our home. We could be driven out by the goblin.]_

_[But would he take this place? His home is far away, he may return to it if he kills Dirtclaw.]_

_[Perhaps he might go home without harming us? After all, we didn't kill his family. We're just pawns in it all.]_

_[We can only hope,]_  Mudbank sighed, scratching behind her ear with a hind foot.


	21. Chapter 20 -- Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Even when walking through the forest on your way to help a friend and common enemy to kill a bigger enemy for revenge, one still has their usual needs. Food and drink are two of those needs, of course, as well as sleep. But another one was just as important.

"We need to stop for a few minutes," Curdie announced.

Irene and Froglip froze and looked back at him. It had been the day after she started teaching him to read, and she had one of her books open in her hands, pointing at various small words for him to pronounce. She had already taught him the alphabet and some simple words, trying to recall how she herself had been taught to read. She had quickly realized that though both humans and goblins spoke the same language, their written languages were far different.

Despite that, Froglip proved to be a fast learner, albeit with a few mistakes that she had quickly corrected him in. It made her feel bad about saying he wasn't clever those days ago when he was accused of killing her father. Regarding the fact that he had learned how to fend for himself, including making his own spear after being banished from his home, he proved to be smarter than she had initially thought.

"Why do we need to stop?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I need to... take a break," the miner said slowly, glancing at Irene.

Rolling his eyes, Froglip waved him off. "Hurry up."

"You better not hurt Irene-"

"-are we really going down this road again? We've stopped for piss breaks multiple times, sometimes where she and I were left alone while you did your business, and how many times have I laid even a claw on her? What would I have to gain from doing so anyway?"

Curdie was about to counter, as well as tell him off for swearing, but he decided to let it go. He didn't want to start another argument and upset Irene again. Instead, he stepped closer to her and said quietly, "Remember, scream if you need me."

"I know, Curdie," she nodded, though she looked a little exasperated as well, "but I will be all right."

Nodding, he walked off into the brush until he was unseen by the both of them and his footsteps disappeared.

She looked back at her book, flipped the page, and was about to point out some more small words when she saw the image on the paper: it was a large lion, roaring and trying to rear up on its hind legs. A strong man was on its back, wrapping his arms tightly around the beast's neck. The title of the story was "The Twelve Labours of Heracles", and underneath that in smaller letters was "The First Labour – The Nemean Lion".

She gazed down at the picture in thought until she realized Froglip was calling out to her. Looking up, she saw he was looking at her with a perplexed expression. "My apologies, I was simply... thinking."

Glancing at the picture, he asked, "About what?"

"Well, seeing this lion... it's silly," she chuckled, shaking her head, "but it reminded me of my own cat, Turnip."

"The gray kit with the white paw?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded, surprised he had remembered him. "I was wondering if he would follow us on our journey, as he often accompanied me when I played outside... but I guess not this time."

"Where is he now?"

"Probably at home, asleep in front of the fire with a belly full of cream. He's quite old actually, and he doesn't roam about as often as he used to do. So, I suppose I don't blame him for not coming along." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Did you have a cat as well? A dark-blue cat with a black mane, yellow eyes, and a devil's tail?"

"Yes, I did," Froglip nodded. "Grazzlegritch."

"Graz-what?"

"Grazzlegritch," he repeated slowly. "He eventually came to live with me after I was banished, though he sometimes disappeared for periods of time."

"Hunting, perhaps?"

"Possibly."

"Turnip sometimes left for a while after the war as well... they actually fought one time. Your cat, Grazzelgretch-"

"-Grazzlegritch."

"Yes, well anyway, he came into my room one night and Turnip fought him. He scratched me, and I managed to hide away. He must have left that same night. This was just after I had learned of goblins and their pets' existence. If I may ask, how did you come about him?"

"A few years before the war, after D-erm," he paused, looking uncomfortable for a brief minute, before continuing, "well, several years before the war, anyway, I was allowed to choose from a group of goblin pets."

"I think I know what you're talking about," Irene said. "Several ugly-looking creatures?"

"Ugly to you, maybe," he smirked. "But at any rate, I chose the cat because... well, I was young, and I liked the way he looked the best. And he proved to be like me: cunning, sneaky, and charming." His smirk widened as he turned to Irene. "A good match, eh?"

"I suppose I would agree if I were a goblin as well," she replied smoothly, though she was smiling as well.

To her surprise, he laughed at her answer. Not mockingly, but in a genuinely-amused manner. "Yes, I guess that's true," he chuckled, brushing his hair back.

She continued to smile, and actually found herself liking his laugh. It sounded nicer than when he laughed mockingly or with contempt. "Does his name mean anything?"

"It does, actually. 'Grazzle' means 'beast', and 'gritch' means 'battle'. Thus, 'battle-beast'. What about  _your_  cat? Since we're talking about pets, how did you get him?"

"When I was a little girl, Father took me to see one of the nearby wheat farmers." She frowned when Froglip snorted and muttered something about peasants under his breath. "Father always taught me to communicate with lower-class people. For example, without the wheat farmers, we would be more susceptible to starvation. And without our protection of the land, including wheat farmers, they wouldn't be protected, in simple man's terms. We work together and help keep each other alive."

Froglip simply shrugged. Decided to not argue her point further, she continued, "But anyway, I was playing in their barn, and I found a mother cat and her litter of kittens. They were all wary of me, save for one. I was able to play with him, pet him, and even hold him. When Father said it was time to go home, I begged for him to let me keep him, and the rest is history."

"Why would you name him 'Turnip' though?"

"Because I found them next to a bag of turnips."

Froglip began laughing, throwing his head back and laying a hand on his forehead. "Stop it!" she protested, holding the book in one arm and smacking his chest with the other hand. "I was a child, need I remind you? Besides, I would have thought Grazzlegritch was simply gibberish that you liked the sound of, and thought it would be a good name."

He had calmed down by now, though he was still chuckling quietly, rubbing his chest where she had hit him. "Yes, I guess that's also a good theory. You hit hard for a Sun-Person, you know?"

"I know the right places to hit is all," she smirked.

He laughed again, though she joined this time. By this time, Curdie had returned. "Sorry for taking so long."

"A bit of trouble with the plumbing?" Froglip quipped.

"Stop it," Irene admonished him, shoving him in the shoulder. She looked at Curdie concerned when she noticed his expression. He looked conflicted and sad. "Are you all right?" she asked gently, her smile having fallen from her face.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly, though he relaxed when he saw both Irene and Froglip looking at him in confusion. "I'm just... I'm tired, and I miss home. Shall we continue on then?"

Looking back at Curdie once more, Froglip began walking off again. Irene followed behind, putting her book back into her bag. Froglip didn't seem interested in learning to read at the moment, and she didn't think she would be able to focus on teaching him at the moment anyway.

Curdie had indeed been gone for a long while; longer than he had been in the past few days they had been traveling. Not to mention his expression when he returned. Was he truly homesick? If that were the case, she wondered if she should let him go home. While he was her best friend, and she would love for him to be there alongside her for help—no matter if Froglip thinks they wouldn't need his help—this wasn't his fight. Dirtclaw did nothing to him or his family, and thus Curdie had no means for revenge against him.

But then she had another thought: was he conflicted and sad because he heard her and Froglip getting along? Was he worried about her getting too close to him? Perhaps he was worried that Froglip would do something to hurt her, whether physically or emotionally.

Or... maybe, just maybe... he was jealous?


	22. Chapter 21 -- Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

"Are we lost?"

"No, we are not lost."

"So you know where you're going?"

"I know the general direction-"

"-so you don't know. That proves my point; we're lost."

"It'th a mountain that look'th like it'th made of shard'th of gla'th. And mountain'th are huge. How hard would it be to th'pot th'omething like that?"

"Except we haven't seen a mountain like that, or any mountains for that matter."

"It'th becauth'e we're in the tree'th, genui'th."

Irene rolled her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time as Curdie and Froglip continued to argue. Ever since they had stopped so her best friend could take a break—which had been a few hours prior—he had been more curt with the goblin, if that were possible. At this point, it sounded like he wanted to argue with him and had been searching for the most minute thing to argue about, even after promising Irene to not fight with him.

At this point, she had stopped trying to separate them. She couldn't imagine them having a civil conversation for more than two minutes. So, it came as a given that they would find something to fight about every five or ten minutes. All she did now was ignore them and make sure they didn't start fighting physically. Only then would she get involved, and that hasn't happened so far.

While they had been walking, they heard thunder rumbling. It was so gentle, they assumed it was either far away or moving away from them. However, it started growing louder and sounding nearer. And soon enough, it began to rain. It started slow, feeling like water was dripping from the tree leaves. But it slowly, yet steadily began to grow. And to add to the unluckiness, evening was coming quickly. The dark and rain did not mix, to say the least.

"Lovely, now we're lost, it's getting dark,  _and_  it's starting to rain," Curdie griped.

"Oh, and that'th all my fault, I th'uppo'the?" Froglip growled, crossing his arms.

"I never said that, but it's your fault we're lost," the miner countered, poking the goblin hard in the chest with a finger. "You're supposed to be the one taking us to this mountain-"

"Firth'tly, I'm only taking the Th'un-Prin'the'th to Th'kewer Th'ummit. You only tagged along after our tru'the. You're lucky I let you come in the firth't pla'the. Now, do you want to th'tand here and argue all night, or do you want to find some sort of shelter? Say, a cave?"

"A cave?" Curdie snorted.

"Do you have any better ideas, Sun-Boy?"

"Any smarter ones you mean? Unfortunately no. However, there's no cave in sight."

When Froglip had mentioned a cave, Irene looked around the area, since she knew they wouldn't be looking any time soon. As they argued, she saw something in the distance. She approached it slowly and carefully, smiling when she saw it was the mouth of a cave. "I found a cave," she said, turning back to her companions.

However, they didn't hear her. "Well, that's why we need to look around, idiot," Froglip hissed. "Oh wait, I forgot, Th'un-People don't have night vision."

"Just because you can see in the dark, it doesn't mean you have the right to belittle us. We can do things you goblins can't."

"Boys?" Irene spoke up a little louder. "I found a-"

"-oh really?" Froglip scoffed. "Well, enlighten me then. What thing'th can Th'un-People do that u'th goblin'th can't?"

"Listen to music and singing, for one? Survive having our feet lightly tapped. And we have better living conditions."

"Better living-give me a break."

"Listen to me! I found-"

"-you call living and th'laving out in the th'un better living condition'th?"

"That's another thing," Curdie added, wiping off some spit that had spattered on his face, "we can survive out in the sun. That's already three things we can do better to your one thing you do better."

"Well, can you live off of meat that you don't have to cook? Becauth'e I've th'een how you prepare your food; I could finish full meal fath'ter than you can cook it."

" _Hey!_  I! Found! A cave!" Irene was shouting at the top of her lungs at this point.

"What cave?!" Curdie snapped as he and Froglip turned sharply to her.

Rolling her eyes, she gestured at the cave with an exaggerated flourish. By this time, the rain was falling faster, thunder was rumbling so close they could see the flashes of lightning through the leaves, and the sky was quickly darkening.

Glancing at each other, Froglip and Curdie followed Irene into the cave. "Hold on," the goblin held up a hand. "Let me go first."

"Let  _you_  go first?!" Curdie snapped.

"For once, listen to me," he said seriously, holding eye contact with his enemy. "I need to make sure there's nothing else in this cave; no animals, no goblins, nothing. And that they've been long gone. Otherwise... there may not be only three visitors."

Realizing that he was right, Curdie nodded. Froglip crept in, gripping his spear—by this time, he had fashioned a spear scabbard out of braided and knotted plant fibers so he could hold his weapon on his back. He sniffed at the air and poked at the ground, sides, and ahead of himself with the spear as his eyes fully adjusted to the dark. The cave was deep, and the dirt was covered in grass and twigs. To his surprise, he saw a pile of ashes and burnt sticks, and he could smell something faint: goblins Or at least, it smelled similar to goblins.

Someone had been in here. Not recently, but they had definitely stayed here long enough to have a fire burn completely out.

Furrowing his eyebrows briefly, Froglip glanced over his shoulder as he stood up. The cave was tall enough that he was able to stand at full height, though the tips of his ears brushed against the ceiling. "All right, it's clear," he announced.

Irene and Curdie hurried into the cave. They all wrung out their hair and clothes, and Froglip gathered all of the dry unburned sticks he could find to make a fire. He built it near the entrance so the smoke wouldn't fill the cave, but not too close that the rain could put it out.

Within minutes, he had a small fire blazing. They cooked the remaining deer meat they had, and finished all of the food Irene had packed. Curdie held out the waterskin so it could fill with rainwater. Irene had opened one of her books,  _The Tales of Robin Hood_ , and was reading it aloud by the fire. Froglip listened with great curiosity; even Curdie was interested in the story.

When the story was finished, she turned to Froglip and said, "I've been reading stories from my books for the past few days. Do you have any goblin stories, Froglip?"

One of his ears tilted as he thought about it for couple of minutes. "... What would you like to hear?"

"Anything," she shrugged, hugging her knees to her chest.

Froglip remembered the first story Irene had told him,  _The Abduction of Persephone_ , and how he was reminded of how goblins had similar stories of how things came to be and worked; such as how seasons came to be. "Many years ago, long before our great-great-great-grandparents, there was no such thing as the four different seasons. It remained warm and sunny every year. Of course, night came and went just as it does today, but there was no winter. Food was able to be grown all of the time, and there was no starvation or death by cold. Goblins slept during the day, and did their work and play during the night. Goblins had always slept in caves, of course; it was only recent that they were driven underground permanently.

"But at any rate, the weather never changed... not until one day. You see, one of the goblin deities grew bored of the simple life they and their subjects led. Hardly anything chaotic or tragic happened; it was mostly peaceful and happy. So, they decided to change it for a bit of entertainment. But I must explain something first: the reason the weather was warm was because there was a fire burning within the earth. It blazed eternally, and the coals and wood never burned away. True, sometimes it burned a little too hot, but it never died down completely. One day, though, the goblin deity journeyed down to the center of the earth, extinguished the fire, and buried the coals and wood with stones so it wouldn't come alive again on its own.

"The weather didn't change all at once; the weather slowly grew colder and colder. It wasn't as if the goblins hadn't experienced the cold, but it never occurred during the daytime, only at night. Crops died out, animals either starved or left to find warmer places, and water began to freeze. Unused to the cold, the goblins huddled together and wore more and more furs to keep warm. And still, the earth grew colder. The rains came, only they came as tiny white crystals. The ground and trees became covered in it, and it caused the earth to become even colder. Soon, goblins and animals—the ones that stayed stubbornly—began to to die of starvation or freezing.

"Several of the goblin elders prayed to the deities, asking why this had happened. Had they done something wrong? Had they offended one of the deities? The head of the deities was just as confused as their subjects, and investigated the earth's internal fire. They found it as I had described it, dead and covered in stones. But when they removed the stones, it was too late. It wouldn't start again, and even if they sparked it, it wouldn't keep burning forever as it had used to. Greatly angered, they returned to the other deities and demanded an explanation. But you see, they didn't ask why the fire had been extinguished. They were more clever than that; they simply asked why the earth had grown frozen and dead.

"Most of the deities said they didn't know what had happened, and some even demanded an explanation as well. At some point, one certain deity wondered aloud, 'Why would anyone put out the internal fire?' The head pointed out that they never said the internal fire had been extinguished, only that the earth had grown cold. The deity tried to cover themselves, saying it was only logical that the reason the earth was frozen was because the fire had been extinguished, but that only served to make them more suspicious. Soon enough, the rest of the deities, not just the head, were demanding they tell the full truth. Finally, after being repeatedly interrogated, they finally confessed to what they had done, and that they did it out of boredom.

"As punishment, the head tasked the deity with restoring the fire, and thus warming up the earth again. But there were other consequences: some parts of the earth remained cold and icy, like the summits of mountains. And as I mentioned before, the internal fire itself had been scarred, and needed to be tended to so it would keep burning. The deities had only noticed this after seeing that it had died out after half a year, even with the tasked deity's care—they were actually more skilled with tending to the fire than the head had been, which was why it died out after a few minutes when the head attempted to start it again. Though the changes weren't all bad. Some of the animals had grown to adapt to the cold; some of them even thrived during it. And the goblins noticed that crops grew better than ever once the warm weather returned.

"Seeing all of this, the head decided that half of the year, the earth would be warm and sunny, while the other half would be cold and snowy. And they tasked the deity that had started it all with tending to the fire that they had extinguished as punishment. That deity was called Suhmwhin, so their name was used for the names of the two seasons, summer and winter. Spring and autumn were dubbed by the goblins on earth some time later, as they weren't as extreme as either season. They also decided that, since food would be best grown in the summer, they would plant their crops in the spring and harvest them during the autumn.

Irene had listened to this story with great fascination. Even Curdie had begun listening after a little while, though he hadn't been as interested as his best friend. "Are there other stories like that?" she asked, still wide-eyed.

"Yes," Froglip nodded, drinking some water. "There are stories about how some of the animals were created, how laws were crafted; even how the earth itself came to be. Like your book of Greek myths," he nodded at her bag, in which her books lay. "There are also more recent stories of warriors and wars. But those are for another day. We should probably get some sleep."

Irene nodded as she yawned, "That's a good idea. Goodnight, you two."

"G'night," Froglip grunted, stretching, and cracking his neck.

Curdie simply nodded as he continued to stare into the fire. By the time Irene was asleep, and Froglip was settling down to sleep, he was still sitting by the fire, even though it was beginning to die down. "what's eating you?" the goblin asked, though he didn't really care. He simply wanted the miner to put out the fire so they could sleep.

"...I've decided to go home."

Froglip's perked up in surprise. "What?" he asked, rolling onto his front and propping himself up with his elbows. "I don't think I heard you right. Did you just say you were leaving?"

"Basically," he shrugged.

Froglip thought that if the Sun-Boy had suddenly decided to leave the group, he would have been ecstatic that he would be gone. He had been annoying him the whole trip, and he was getting tired of fighting. He wasn't going to let him win them, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it.

But now that he said he was leaving, Froglip simply felt confused. "I thought you were adamant about protecting the Sun-Princess?"

"I was... but I've realized that she... she can take care of herself."

"She can," Froglip found himself agreeing.

"Besides, this isn't my mission. It's yours and Irene's. I'm just baggage."

"She doesn't seem to think so."

"But we keep fighting, and it's slowing you two down. Not to mention you have to hunt for three mouths instead of two. Besides," he sighed deeply, "I have a duty back at home. I have to help my father provide for the family and for the village. But also... I miss home. I know Irene has a duty—a greater one than I—and that she must be homesick as well, but she's set in this quest. Nothing will change her mind... and I don't blame her." He raised his eyes to meet Froglip with just as much seriousness as the goblin's had been when he was explaining why he should enter the cave first. "I'm just asking you to do two simple things: first, protect her. Keep her safe."

"And the second thing?" Froglip asked without a hint of sarcasm or irritation.

"Return her home, just as safe and sound. I've never asked you to do anything, nor have I expected you to do anything I ask. But now, I'm asking you, Froglip, to do these two things. If not for me, for her. She trusts you."

Glancing at Irene, who had rolled over in her sleep so she was facing away from them, the goblin sighed and nodded silently.

"Thank you," Curdie said quietly, "I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Are you going to tell her?"

He didn't answer. He simply brushed some dirt onto the fire, putting it out, and lay down to fall asleep. Froglip stared at him for a few seconds before lying down as well. Sleep didn't come easy after the Sun-Boy's revelation and requests, but it came eventually.


	23. Chapter 22 -- Good-Bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

By the time the sun was beginning to rise, the storm had passed over. Rain had poured hard overnight, and there were so many puddles and large splotches of mud that it looked like there were many mini swamps. Water slowly dripped off of the leaves of the trees, and the sun reflected off of the dew in the grass, making it look like they were covered in millions of tiny jewels.

A few rabbits were bounding around in the dewy grass, munching on the vegetation, and playing with each other. A twig snapped, causing them to all freeze and turn towards the sound. Their ears were perked up and their noses twitched. After a few seconds, when nothing came out, they began eating again.

Suddenly, a spear flew out from the brush and into one of the rabbits' heads, pinning it to the ground. The remaining ones scattered quickly, leaving their fallen comrade behind. A tall goblin with a cape came strolling out, took back the spear, picked up the rabbit by the neck, and went back the way he had come.

When Froglip returned to the cave, Curdie had already managed to restart the fire from the previous night. Irene was still lying down, so they assumed she was still asleep. "I've got breakfast," Froglip announced, holding up the rabbit.

Curdie groaned in disgust at the sight of dead, bleeding animal. "Did you really have to show it off like that?" he deadpanned.

"Did you want me to bring it back alive? Then I'd have to kill it anyway. And besides, it would have taken me until dinner to catch it alive." Rolling his eyes, Froglip took Irene's knife and began to skin the animal. Curdie looked away with a disgusted expression. "Weren't you taught to do this, Sun-Boy?"

"It doesn't mean I enjoy seeing someone do it."

Snorting, Froglip continued until the rabbit was completely devoid of its skin and fur. He sliced it into several pieces and set it out to cook on the fire.

For several minutes, none of them said a word. They watched the rabbit cook, and passed the waterskin back and forth, taking sips out of it after each pass. "Are you still sure about this?"

"I never thought I'd see the day where you try to talk me out of leaving," Curdie remarked with dry humor, tossing a tiny stick into the flames.

"Believe me, I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I simply want to know if this will be permanent, and that you won't come running back, whining about how you've changed your mind."

"I've thought about it all night before I went to sleep, and some more when you were hunting. I've made my decision, and I'm not going to change it. I'm going home."

"And you still think you'll be able to leave without telling her?" Froglip asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I think I know the answer."

Curdie jumped in surprise. Looking into the cave, he saw Irene was now sitting up, facing him. And she did not look happy at all.

He turned to Froglip, who didn't look as surprised as he felt. "Did you know she was awake?" he asked.

The goblin wordlessly shrugged, looking uninterested in the whole thing. He simply continued to tend to their cooking breakfast.

"Curdie, are you truly leaving?" Irene stood up and approached her best friend, now looking hurt.

Sighing, he explained, "Irene... Froglip and I aren't getting along. I've tried not to fight with him, but it's like asking wolves and sheep to get along. I'm only slowing you both down. And... I miss home, and my family needs me." He took both of her hands in his. "I'm not going to ask you to go home as well. I know your heart is set in this, and I won't stop you. And I absolutely know you can protect yourself... but please be careful."

She sighed heavily and pulled her hands away. "I'm not happy about it... but I understand." She brushed past him and sat down next to Froglip. She hugged her knees to her chest as she stared into the fire. Tears began to sting her eyes, but she scrubbed them away before they could fall. Froglip and Curdie weren't fooled, but they didn't talk more about the latter leaving. He sat down on the other side of the fire, and Froglip removed the fully-cooked pieces of meat. When he divided them into three meals, there was just enough for each of them. There was not even a tiny scrap left.

"After we're done eating, I'll try to catch another rabbit," Froglip said, pulling the meat off of one of the rabbit legs and chewing it. "So you don't starve to death on the way, and I don't get hounded by the Sun-Princess for letting you die."

Curdie rolled his eyes, but muttered his thanks. Irene didn't say anything, but she snuck a small smile in the goblin's direction.

Indeed, after Froglip was finished eating, he wordlessly hopped to his feet and left the cave to go hunting, chewing on a bone that was halfway out of the corner of his mouth. Curdie stoked the fire so it would still be burning by the time the goblin returned with more food. Irene continued to hug her knees and stare at the fire, eyes red and glistening with unshed tears. "Irene," her best friend said quietly, "I'm not doing this to hurt you."

"I know."

"And it's not like you asked me to go. I came on my own accord."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"It's like I told Froglip, I miss home. And I have a duty at home-"

"-and you didn't think about that when you left?"

He ignored her bitter question. She had every right to ask that. "I confess, I didn't think straight that night. I was more focused on making sure you were safe from Froglip... but I realize now you don't need protection from him. You're far stronger than I thought. You're getting along with him far better than I ever thought, and he's actually getting along with you. And it's all because of you." He didn't state the obvious statement; that the only one she would need protection from was the enemy they were going to confront.

"You say you have duty at home. Aren't you going to tell me I have the same thing? A greater one, perhaps?"

"You do... but if this is something you feel so strong about, you should continue on with it. Besides, you've gone this far. It would be mad, and a waste of time, to turn back now. Especially since Froglip's life could be on the line if you do."

Irene nodded in agreement, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. If she went back with Froglip, either he would be executed—perhaps on the spot—or he would go back to living in exile. Perhaps permanently, since his own parents were dead as well. It was odd that Curdie appeared concerned for Froglip's safety, but she knew he was only adding to the reasons she had to continue on without him. "Will you be all right? You don't have a horse, and you don't know the way home."

"I know which way we were going, and it seemed to be in a straight line. I'll just go back the way we came. I'll be fine, don't worry."

She nodded, though she still worried.

Froglip returned with another rabbit, though this one was smaller. He cooked it and wrapped it for Curdie's trip. By this time, the sun had risen, though it wasn't very high in the sky. Froglip and Irene stood by the cave, with Curdie before them. He and Irene hugged tightly, both teary-eyed and sniffling. Even though they didn't say it, they were both wondering the same thing: what if they never saw each other again? After all, both journeys would be dangerous, Irene would be facing a dangerous animal, and once everything was said and done, she would be married and ruling a kingdom and country. And Curdie would be working in the mines, and would someday marry and raise a family of his own.

There was little chance a humble miner and a royal girl would remain as close of friends as they had.

"You be careful when you go home," Irene said firmly. "You hear me?"

"Loud and clear," he smiled, kissing her forehead. "And you be careful too. Give Dirtclaw hell for all he's done!" He turned to Froglip, and they stared at each other for several seconds before he slowly held out a hand. He raised an eyebrow at the hand, but grasped it and shook it a couple of times.

"All right, get out of here before I change my mind and chase you away," the goblin snarked, letting his hand go and shoving his shoulder away.

Curdie chuckled dryly and backed away a few steps. "You two be careful, Goblin and Princess," he advised, bowing playfully.

"Curdie, you know I hate it when you refer to me as that!" Irene protested, though she was laughing.

He laughed as well as he turned opposite to the direction they had been walking and disappeared into the brush and trees. His footsteps gradually grew quieter and quieter until the only sounds were the chirping birds, dripping water, and buzzing insects.

Sighing heavily, Froglip began walking as well, though in the direction they had been going for the past few days. "Come on, then," he said over his shoulder, prompting Irene to hurry after him, adjusting the bag over her shoulder. "It's still a few days before we reach Skewer Summit. So the sooner we get going, the sooner we'll get there, kill him, and go home."

"And us without the horses," Irene lamented under her breath.

He rolled his eyes and remarked, "Well, look on the bright side: that Sun-Boy has the right idea, we'll be a little faster without him."

"Why do you insist on calling him 'Sun-Boy'? He's not a boy, he's a man."

"I don't know about you, Sun-Princess, but I'll never see him as a man. I'll always see him as that scrawny little Sun-Boy that somehow unraveled my entire plan and caused us to nearly be drowned by our own flood." He glanced at her, and saw she was still melancholy about her best friend leaving. "... I know you'll miss him," he said, sounding surprisingly gentle, "but I think it's for the better. Less Sun-People for me to look out for when we're against Dirtclaw."

"I suppose so," she nodded, silently adding that at least Curdie would be safe from that monster. "And at least I won't get headaches from you two arguing every five minutes."

"Yes, it'll will be so very silent," he sighed dramatically, making her giggle. "However shall we fill that silence as we walk?"

"We could always talk, as we are," she smirked. "Or I could read aloud from one of my books."

She giggled again at his ears perking up at the mention of her books. "Or you could continue to teach me to read?"

"Let's leave that for when we've stopped to rest and eat, shall we? That way we're able to focus better. Perhaps... perhaps you have other goblin stories?"


	24. Chapter 23 -- Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Though he liked to believe that he had some patience, Dirtclaw was beginning to get antsy. He knew it would take several days for Froglip to reach Skewer Summit, but he figured that he would be so intent on killing him that he would try to hurry to the mountain as fast as he could. He thought one of the patrols would see him any day now, but it had been five days since he had last encountered him, and still no sign of him.

But it wasn't just the fact that he wasn't close yet. Another thing that was making him fidgety was that the wolves were also anticipating Froglip's arrival. It also made him angry. They had never met Froglip, or knew what he was like. They didn't even know what he looked like. They didn't have the same hatred he did for him. And yet, they were waiting for his arrival as though he were a rival wolf pack that they had known about for seasons. Though it was also a good thing that they were taking it seriously, it made him bare his teeth and growl in anger all the same.

On the fifth day that he was waiting for Froglip, he was relaxing on the outside ledge again, nibbling at an itch on one of his wings. Stormcloud was sitting behind him, chewing on a rabbit bone, and Riverrush was pacing about on the ledge. Once or twice, he glanced at the stone statues with the attitude of a timid little cub who had disobeyed their elders. He had tried to speak to Dirtclaw about the statues, but all the winged wolf heard was his superstition about the statues "knowing what they did" and feeling uncomfortable around them. He rolled his eyes and snapped at him, telling him that he was being ridiculous. The younger wolf never brought it up again.

 _[I thought he would be here by now,]_  Riverrush remarked, pausing to scratch at his ear with a hind foot.

 _[Enough of that,]_  Dirtclaw growled over his shoulder, startling the young wolf.  _[It took me only a day to get here, but that was because I can fly. It's a several day's walk from the Sun-People's castle to here. Besides, he may not know the way here.]_  The irony of him chewing out Riverrush for being impatient about Froglip's imminent arrival, when he was doing the same thing, was not lost on him. But he didn't care, and him chastising Riverrush was also calming himself down as well.

 _[Besides, you're not the main one waiting for Froglip,]_  Stormcloud remarked with a frown.

 _[He knows that!]_  Dirtclaw suddenly snapped, leaping to his feet and spinning around to face the gray wolf. Both wolves froze and stared at him.  _[I do not need anyone—least of all you—speaking for me when I have a perfectly-good voice and opinion.]_

 _[Of course, Dirtclaw. My mistake,]_  Stormcloud responded, tucking his tail between his legs and lowering his body to the ground.

He simply snorted in response and lay back down.

 _[I know that,]_  Riverrush said to Stormcloud as if nothing had happened.  _[But I'm just so excited for a fight! We haven't had any action in seasons!]_

 _[You could always make yourself useful and join the hunts,]_  Dirtclaw grumbled under his breath as he crossed one paw over the other and laid his chin on them.

 _[We barely know anything about Froglip,]_  Stormcloud replied, sitting lazily on his haunches.  _[Only that he is a goblin.]_  He turned to Dirtclaw and asked gently,  _[Is there anything we should know about him? So that we may have a bigger advantage over him than just numbers?]_

For a few minutes, Dirtclaw said nothing. His calm expression molded into a soft glare, as though he was thinking of something that angered him, though it wasn't enough to completely affect him.  _[… He's a spoiled, selfish, arrogant prince,]_  he finally answered, not lifting his head from his paws.  _[I used to think he wasn't as bad, but looking back, I now see that he had always been that way ever since he was young. Probably before I even met him, even. But I will also concede that he is clever and cunning. He just doesn't use any of that wisely. He is either an easy target... or a dangerous enemy.]_

Stormcloud and Riverrush listened with wide eyes and perked up ears.  _[Physically, goblins and wolves could be easily-matched,]_  Dirtclaw admitted,  _[They're stronger than Sun-People in many ways; they're physically stronger, can endure greater conditions, and are able to live off of the land better. However, they still have their weaknesses. And at any rate, as you said, Stormcloud, we have the advantage in numbers, fifteen to one.]_

 _[Unless he has reinforcements,]_  Stormcloud stated.

 _[Unless he has reinforcements, yes,]_  Dirtclaw actually agreed,  _[However, as I said, he is more arrogant than clever. It's more likely that he'll think I am alone, or that he can fight me alone, rather than him bringing along anyone else.]_

 _[What if he does though?]_  Riverrush asked. But rather than sounding afraid, he sounded excited at the prospect of Froglip bringing someone else along.  _[That would mean a bigger fight! Then I'd be able to prove myself to be a great fighter!]_

 _[Usually those thoughts are supposed to be in your head, not spoken out loud,]_  Stormcloud chuffed, pawing hard at the young wolf's head.  _[And besides, him having reinforcements means bigger danger for us.]_

_[Why?]_

_[Because instead of us having to focus on one target, we'll have to focus on multiple targets,]_  Stormcloud said slowly as if he were speaking to a pup.  _[And even though either way we'd only be focusing on keeping him here, rather than fighting him,]_  he nodded in acknowledgment at Dirtclaw,  _[him having others with him makes our job harder. Because not only would we have to keep Froglip here, but we'd also have to deal with whoever is with him.]_

 _[I see,]_  Riverrush nodded, looking sheepish.

Dirtclaw simply watched them in silence. While it was good that at least Stormcloud remembered what the wolves were supposed to do, and he could at least count on him to keep them in line while he's busy, Riverrush's response both concerned and irritated him. He was the youngest of all the wolves, and was always trying to come up with ways he could prove himself to be a good member of the pack. In the very farthest reaches of his mind, Dirtclaw found himself with the tiniest bit of admiration for him.

But on the other paw, he still had it in his head that he would help fight against Froglip. And if he felt that way, who was to say others wouldn't follow in his paw-steps? Even with Stormcloud keeping them in line?  _I suppose I'll have to remind them all again tonight,_  Dirtclaw sighed inwardly, stretching his front legs and scratching his claws against the rock beneath him.  _It's wolves like Riverrush that make me want to grab them by the scruff and shake them until their brains begin working properly._

But he also understood Riverrush's impatience. Again, he could see the irony that he had reprimanded the younger wolf for being so impatient, all while he felt the same way. But even having told them as little as he could about Froglip—that he was a goblin prince, about his personality, and that he knew about the goblin family—they basically knew nothing. He had barely scratched the surface about his past with Froglip.

And that would remain the same. Even though he needed the wolf pack, he didn't trust them. But then again, he barely trusted anyone. He had learned to distrust everyone long ago, and kept that lesson close. The only wolf he had a tiny bit of trust in was Stormcloud, but that was only because he was the oldest of the wolves, and thus was the most authoritative after Dirtclaw himself. Not to mention he knew the pack longer than he did.

But he had seen the looks Stormcloud gave him when he thought he wasn't looking. He knew the gray wolf hated him with his entire being. Hated him for taking over the pack, hated him for getting half of them killed in order to take Skewer Summit, and hated him for taking them from their home. But he hid it well behind submission and careful words. If Dirtclaw didn't need him to help keep control of the pack, he would have killed him the first time he saw the hateful looks the wolf gave him. But as much as he absolutely loathed to admit it, he needed him. He needed all the wolves he could get, especially after losing half of them taking Skewer Summit.

One would wonder why Dirtclaw didn't go out and look for other wolves to expand the pack. But there were several reasons: he was on limited time, since he had carefully planned out his revenge, and wasn't wasting precious time to simply go and find additional wolves; there weren't many wolves for miles away—he had gone past the perimeters of the territory and scented no wolves other than his own—and again, he would be wasting time traveling to find them; and as stated before, he barely trusted his own wolves, let alone strangers. Not to mention that others would also distrust him to the point of trying to take over and kick him out.

He had gotten lucky taking control of this pack, and he knew better than to push his luck again.

His thoughts were interrupted by Riverrush asking questions.  _[Why exactly do you hate this goblin?]_

Stormcloud immediately stepped between Dirtclaw and the younger wolf.  _[Haven't you learned to stop asking questions?!]_  he growled.  _[Especially ones you know better than to ask?]_

_[All I'm curious about is why he hates him so much? We need to anticipate his arrival, but not attack him, only keep him in the mountain so Dirtclaw can kill him. He's put this much trust in us to do all this, it's the least he could do to tell us why he hates him-]_

Suddenly, Stormcloud tackled Riverrush to the ground, surprising even Dirtclaw. The gray wolf grabbed the younger one by the side of his neck and pinned him to the ground, pushing one paw on his side for good measure. He yelped in surprise when he was pinned, and thrashed under the weight of the older wolf. He wasn't gasping for air, but was still whimpering in pain. But eventually, he calmed down and went limp. Dirtclaw knew he wasn't dead; he could see his side frantically rising and falling. And he knew Stormcloud wouldn't kill any of his pack unless there was a dire reason to.

Once Riverrush was calmed, Stormcloud let his neck go and growled close to his ear,  _[If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: stop. Asking. Useless. Questions!]_

As he continued to chastise the younger wolf, who was remaining surprisingly quiet, Dirtclaw lay a paw across his eyes and groaned, "I'm surrounded by idiots."


	25. Chapter 24 -- Bugs and Grubs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

A few hours after Curdie had left the group to return home, Irene and Froglip were still walking through the forest. She had been silent for most of the walk, though he didn't comment on it. He figured she was still upset about the Sun-Boy leaving to go home. He couldn't understand it—he was glad he was gone, as all the arguing had been giving him headaches—but he didn't vocalize.

For now, he was glad for the peace and quiet.

After some time though, the Sun-Princess did speak up, "Shall we stop for lunch?"

Thinking on it for a few seconds, he responded, "All right. Let's find some food first."

Nodding, she began looking around for berries. She held the hem of her shirt up in one hand, and gathered the berries in her shirt. Luckily, since both Froglip and the Sun-Boy told her what berries were edible or poisonous, she seemed to be gathering the former with little trouble.

Meanwhile, the goblin moved rocks and logs over, looking for bugs and grubs. If he found any, he gathered them all in one of his large hands. He found worms, grubs, crickets, beetles, and even his favorite, cockroaches. At some point, he had gathered so many insects that he had to use both hands to both carry them, and keep them in his hands in the first place. He could feel their legs and bodies tickling the palms of his hands, but he ignored it.

He and Irene met in a tiny, flat clearing in the forest. They both sat down, and he looked over the berries she had gathered. As he unpinned his cape and draped it over his crossed legs, making something like a small basket to hold his food, he pointed out various berries that turned out to be poisonous—not that there were many, but he knew she didn't have as strong a stomach as he did. At any rate, they needed all the strength they could get.

As she ate her berries, she stared at Froglip as his eyes glanced about at the many insects he had gathered. She saw that he was looking between a fat, light-green grub and a thin, brown cockroach before deciding on the former. She cringed as she heard the squishy sounds as he chewed the grub, though he luckily kept his mouth shut. She blinked in surprise when she realized he was smirking at her with a quirked eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

"Never seen a grub?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Of course I have," she countered. "I've just never seen someone  _eat_  one."

"Your eyes would pop out if you visited the goblin village for even a day," he remarked.

Irene didn't know why she had been so affected by him eating his food; especially since it wasn't the first time he had eaten insects. Perhaps it was because before, she had Curdie to "distract" her, so to speak. Now that he was gone though, she only had Froglip to converse with.

Her musings were interrupted by his sharp voice. "What?" she asked again, realizing he had asked her something.

"I said would you like to try one?"

She stared at him as though he asked her to sing him a song. "Excuse me?"

"Are your ears clogged? I asked if you'd like to try one of these?" He held up a large beetle firmly between his finger and thumb. She could see the legs wriggling about, the head glancing back and forth, and the hard wings trying to open to escape the goblin's grasp. Thinking about eating it made her squirm where she sat.

"You can't live off of berries for the whole trip, and there are only so many times I can catch us food," he added, glancing down at his lap to make sure his remaining insects weren't getting away. "You need meat, and bugs and grubs are just as good as any other meat."

Another shudder ran up Irene's spine once he was finished speaking. She did not want to imagine eating something that was still alive, even if it were an insect. But on the other hand, she knew he was right. Plus, bugs were far easier to find for food than larger animals like deer or rabbits. And they wouldn't need to be cooked, so she could very well eat them as she gathered them, similar to berries.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, she inched a little closer to Froglip and held out her hand. He slowly placed the beetle in her outstretched palm, and she quickly closed her fingers over it. She felt the sharpness of his claws briefly against her fingertips, and she could feel the beetle squirming in her fist. She had to work hard at not immediately dropping it and jumping away in fright.

But finally, she shoved her fingers into her fist to grab the insect like the goblin had. She stared at it as it tried to escape her grasp, shivering once again at the thought of chewing it and swallowing it. It was a large, round, brown beetle with long antennae. "Don't think about it," he advised. "Just pop it in your mouth, chew it, and swallow it." He snickered as she glared at him.

Taking a deep breath, she scrunched her eyes shut, put it in her mouth, and quickly chewed down on it. She could hear and feel it crunch under her teeth, and she wanted to spit it out right away. But she kept chewing and chewing until it was nothing but goop in her mouth. Then, she swallowed it with a groan. Amid her hurrying to get it down, she did taste it briefly. It didn't taste very bad, she found herself admitting inwardly, but the idea of eating it was still horrid.

"Well?" Froglip asked, waiting patiently.

She took a deep gulp of water and sighed shakily. "Honesty... despite the idea of eating an insect... it didn't taste all that bad."

"You'll get used to it. Believe it or not, it took me a while as well. And now, they're my favorite things to eat. You want to try a worm?"

"Erm, perhaps later," Irene grimaced, eating three berries at once to try and get rid of the weird feeling in her throat from eating a living creature.

Shrugging, he popped a few bugs in his mouth and chewed them up. One managed to pop out from between his lips and attempt to crawl up his face, but he stuck his tongue out and managed to pull it back into his mouth again.

" _Well, she's got uh-uh uhh-uhh-"_

" _-They're called 'toes', stupid!"_

" _She's ugly!"_

" _We'll make sure the creature's always covered up! So our little Froglip doesn't have to look at it! Isn't that right, my little majesty?"_

He froze at the sudden flashback to ten years prior. Back when he, Suevite, and Dolomite were discussing his plan to kidnap the Sun-Princess and marry her, all so he could be king of the Sun-People, and he could reign over them. He shook his head sharply, catching his breath and blinking away the budding tears.

But the flashback reminded him of something else. "All those years ago, when you were in the goblin village and freed the Sun-Boy," he said, holding a small cockroach and looking at it thoughtfully. "Why were you there?" He bit the cockroach in half and chewed as he waited for her answer.

Irene remembered that night. When her dreams weren't plagued with memories of the day when she was nearly kidnapped, sometimes the night she and Curdie had to race for their lives through the mountain came back to haunt her. Often times, they would be running as fast as they could, with seemingly hundreds of goblins at their heels, but they never seemed to go anywhere; other times, they were indeed moving, but the end stretched further and further away. There were times where Curdie would fall and tell her to keep going, or where they would catch them. Sometimes they were even lucky enough to grab a fistful of her pink skirt.

But she always woke up before they were able to grab any more of her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she answered, picking at her teeth with a fingernail. She tried not to think about remnants of the beetle that were surely stuck there. "Curdie didn't either at the time."

Froglip raised an eyebrow and adjusted the way he was sitting. He still had bugs in his cape on his legs, so he wasn't able to sit differently just yet, but he did move a little closer to her. "Try me," he simply said.

Smiling with a slight scoff, she said, "First, I need to explain a few things. The morning before I found myself in the mountain, I met my great-great grandmother. She's not alive... well, she's not a ghost either. She's simply... magic, I suppose."

Her companion already looked confused, but he continued to listen wordlessly regardless. "I had found a small door in my room that led into the walls of the castle. I climbed the stairs and ladders until I found her in a room in a tower, spinning something. She told me it was a gift for me later. But she told me that she brought me to her because I needed to learn how to find my own magic. She eventually told me it was the sort that was inside of everyone. The ability to fight against evil and wrong, and to do what I think is right even if no one will help me... which I suppose is something like I'm doing right now."

"But  _I'm_  helping you," he responded.

"You are, and I appreciate it," she nodded. "Even though I had to talk you into it, you're helping me. At any rate, this gift she gave me was a thread. It was so fine, I could hardly see it. She tied it to my ring," she held up her left hand, where the ring with the fire opal was still on her pointed finger. This made him wonder what the other ring was, but before he could ask, she continued, "She said if I was lost, or needed help, all I had to do was follow the thread. And the night after I met her, that was what I did. I followed the thread, and it led me outside of the castle, into the mountain, and to Curdie, who was trapped in a cave."

"Where we put him."

" _You_  put him in that cave?" she asked in surprise. "Why?"

"He was attacking us. He trespassed on our property, and dared to wound our feet and ears with a club and his singing. So we locked him in that cave, where he would have eventually tired of singing and fighting back against us. I was actually wondering how he was able to get out."

Frowning, she continued on, "Well, anyway, I continued to follow the thread, with Curdie now accompanying me. He couldn't see my thread, and probably doubted its existence. Eventually, it led us to the royal bedchambers, where we accidentally woke your mother. She called for the guards, and we had to run away from them. My thread led us to a high ledge, where it took us down to the shallow water below and eventually out of the mountain."

"I was also wondering how you were able to fly down," Froglip remarked, scratching behind one of his ears. "I could have sworn I saw something long and sparkly, but I assumed it was my imagination. I  _had_  just been rudely awoken, after all."

"That was my thread. I tried to take Curdie to meet my grandmother, but she wasn't there, and he didn't believe me at all about her. He thought I was making it all up. But he returned just as the goblins were attacking to warn me about them, and... well, you know the rest. He later told me that he met my grandmother just before he realized the goblins had attacked the castle... What do you think?"

He knew what she was asking. "Well, seeing as you confirmed that I wasn't seeing things when I saw you and the Sun-Boy flying down via something long and sparkly, I'd almost believe anything," he shrugged. "That necklace, I noticed that not only did it gain those petals and feathers after I came into the castle days ago, they haven't fallen nor rotted away. Am I to assume they were a gift from your grandmother as well?"

Irene fingered the rose petals and pigeon feathers. They were indeed still as fresh, soft, and sweet-smelling as the night her grandmother had attached them to her necklace. "They are, yes," she nodded. "She said they were similar to my thread, though she didn't explain it. Perhaps she was trying to explain that they would help me to be brave."

"And you believe her?"

"What she had said about the thread protecting me was true, I don't know why she would lie about my necklace."

"But it seems to me that the thread got you in trouble, rather than help you. If you hadn't have followed it, you wouldn't have basically wandered into goblin territory. You're lucky that you weren't caught alone,  _and_  were able to escape."

 _He almost sounds like he's scolding me for getting into trouble._  "I disagree about it causing me trouble. Even me following it got me in danger, I made the choice to follow it. I made the choice to trust in it, and not simply turn around and return home. And besides, because I made the choice to follow it, I was able to free Curdie."

"Well, I still think it's more trouble than it's worth. And I also think that your necklace probably doesn't do anything. Perhaps it only makes you  _think_  you are being brave."

"Do you not think I am brave?"

"There's a difference between being brave and being stupid," Froglip answered, crunching one of his crickets. "Trust me, I learned that long ago."


	26. Chapter 25 -- Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Only ten minutes after Irene and Froglip began walking again after eating lunch, the goblin spoke up, "We have to stop for a few minutes."

"Why?" she asked. When he looked at her pointedly, she sighed heavily, "Why didn't you go before we began walking?"

"I didn't have to go then," he shrugged, scratching the inside of one of his ears. "Will you be all right all by your lonesome?"

She rolled her eyes at his heavy sarcasm. "Yes, of course. I do have a knife, after all."

"That doesn't mean much if you don't know how to use it."

"It can't be that hard to use."

Shaking his head solemnly, Froglip replied in a low voice, "You know nothing, Sun-Princess. Anyway, I'm off to take a piss."

"Oh, such lovely language."

"Just stay here," he said with little humor, pointing to the ground. He turned around and walked through the woods until he and his footsteps disappeared.

Once she was alone, Irene slowly spun around in place, taking in the sights of the forest around her. She could smell the trees, brush, animals, and even the dirt. She could feel the grass and dirt if she crouched down and stretched her hands down towards the ground. She could hear the breeze rustling though the plant-life, and the chirping of birds and bugs. It all took her back to when she was younger and more innocent, playing in the woods with Turnip, and avoiding the watchful hawk eyes of Lootie.

But now, though the woods brought back good memories, her matured mind also saw them as eerie and lonely. They were expansive—she couldn't see any break in the trees anywhere. They felt both wide-open and closely-confined at the same time, as well as mysterious and dangerous.

Perhaps it was because she was now an adult and had realized more dangers of the world? That her sheltered, easy childhood gave her the wrong impression that the forest was something to be explored and played in rather than feared and respected? Or perhaps it was something far more simple as her being left alone, even for a few minutes? Without Curdie, or even Froglip, she felt vulnerable and exposed. Even though she had said she had the knife, Froglip was right, she didn't know how to use it.

Or perhaps it was everything all at once? It was moments like this that made her wonder if traveling far from her home with her enemy to kill a mutual enemy was worth it.

But then she remembered that this was a missions she set out to do, so it was only right that she saw it through. Especially since she promised Froglip she would pardon him once the mission was finished and she was married and crowned. And Dirtclaw was a dangerous animal regardless, who could very well hurt others, whether a single other person or multiple people. He needed to die.

She gasped sharply when she heard rustling in the brush and muffled voices in the distance. And they were steadily coming closer. Glancing around with wide eyes, she ducked behind a tree away from the direction the sounds were coming from. After a few seconds, the rustling and unfamiliar voices stopped, and the air was silent. She slowly stepped around the tree to try and peek around it.

Suddenly, an arrow embedded itself in another nearby tree in front of Irene. She screamed in fright and jumped away from the arrow, exposing herself to the newcomers.

Turning, she saw that the ones making the sounds were two men. They were both dressed in clothing that was similar to Curdie's, except their sleeves and pant legs had holes and tears in them, they were in various browns and greens, and they had gloves. One of them had long blonde hair, a bit of fuzz on his chin and jaws, a mustache, and kind-looking blue eyes. The other had short, stringy brown hair, a beard on the tip of his chin, and small brown eyes. They both had holstered knives at their hips, a large bag over their shoulders, and the brunette had a bow and quiver of arrows.

"Sorry to frighten you," the blonde man smiled, bowing his head briefly.

For a minute, Irene had a pang of panic, wondering if these two men had recognized her as the princess. But they weren't bowing, or calling her "Your Majesty", or even talking about how she had been missing for the past four days. "It's all right," she eventually answered, smiling weakly as she felt her heart calm down.

"My name is Gerald, though you can call me Gerry," he continued. He gestured at his friend, "and this is Thaddeus."

"We weren't expecting someone like you to be walking in the woods," Thaddeus added, glancing her up and down. "May we know your name?"

"My name is... Reenee," she answered, praying they didn't notice her brief pause. If she were to give out her real name, it wouldn't take long for them to realize she was the missing princess. She counted her lucky stars that she was also smart enough to cut her hair and not be dressed in her pink clothes. Not to mention she was probably covered in dirt.

"A pleasure to meet you, Reenee," Gerry nodded. "What are you doing out here, alone in the forest?"

"I'm not alone," she answered. "I'm traveling with my friend. He's off taking a piss."

Both men chuckled. "Are you both walking?"

"Our horses ran away, so yes, we are walking."

"You seem hungry," Gerry remarked. "Would you like to join Thaddeus and I for a meal?"

"Oh, I couldn't," she answered modestly. "I'm simply waiting for my friend to return-"

"-nonsense!" the blonde grinned. "We have plenty of good food. If I'm right, you haven't had much in the way of food lately. You  _must_  be starving."

In truth, Irene was indeed feeling hungry. When she felt at her cheeks, she could have sworn she could feel her cheekbones easier than before. And ever since they had eaten all of the food she had packed, she and Froglip had been eating what he could catch and cook, berries, and insects. The idea of eating more familiar, better food was very tempting. And perhaps she could sneak some food to take along for her and Froglip once she and these gentlemen parted ways.

Eventually, she nodded, "All right, you've won me over."

"Wonderful," Gerry smiled. He held out a hand, which she took, and they led her through the trees and further away from where Froglip had left.

Soon, they came upon a campsite with a smoldering fire. Gerry let her hand go to stir up the flames again, and Thaddeus gestured for her to sit nearby. He opened his bag to reveal various meats, fruit, and bread. In Gerry's bag were similar items, but there were also full waterskins.

She could already feel her mouth watering and her stomach growling at the thought of eating it. She only hoped that Froglip would be grateful should she manage to steal it.

All three began eating and drinking. Irene was sure she was making all sorts of obscene, unladylike noises as she ate, but she hardly cared. And the gentlemen either didn't notice, or they simply didn't comment on it. "So, what are you and your friend doing out in these woods?" Thaddeus asked, taking a swig of his waterskin.

"We're looking for Skewer Summit," she answered.

"Skewer Summit?" Gerry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, do you know where that is?"

"We've heard of it, yes," the blonde nodded. "But why are you going there?"

"We came from one of the villages, my friend and I, you see," she lied, deciding to speak as if Froglip were human. She had a feeling that if she said he were a goblin, either they wouldn't believe her, or she could get in trouble. "And this... thing murdered our parents. We believe it's gone to Skewer Summit, and we're going there to kill it."

"Ah, a revenge mission, eh?" Thaddeus remarked, scratching his tiny beard. "What sort of 'thing'?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she smiled in what she hoped was a mysterious manner. "But at any rate, we're trying to get there."

"Well, we could take you there," Gerry said.

"My friend knows the way," she answered. "But it's very kind of you-"

"-it's no trouble at all. We would be delighted to escort you there."

"Especially seeing as you're such a lovely young lady," Gerry added, exchanging a grin with his companion.

"Aye," he nodded in agreement, mirroring his friend's expression. "We haven't seen those in a while."

Irene began to get a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach at their smiles and remarks. She began to get the impression that these men weren't to be trusted, and that she had just made a big mistake in speaking too much. And their smiles were no longer friendly. They looked as though they were internally planning something to do to her. And she had a very bad feeling that it was not good at all.

"Well, it's been lovely speaking to and eating with you two," she smiled uneasily, standing to her feet and brushing the crumbs off of her front. "But I think I should go find my friend.  _He's_  probably wondering where I am."

"Please, stay a little longer," Gerry requested.

"Your friend's probably long gone by now, since you've disappeared," Thaddeus remarked, reaching for her hand. "Why not travel with  _us_  to Skewer Summit to slay this beast?"

"Y-you don't know anything a-about him," she stammered, backing away a step and holding her fist to her chest.

"It will be two against one," Gerry said, approaching Irene and laying a firm hand on her shoulder. "We'll keep you safe."

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, shoving his hand off of her. She grabbed her knife out of her bag, pulled it out of its sheath, and pointed it at each of them in turn. "Stay away from me, and leave me alone!"

This didn't seem to deter the two men. "All right, calm down, Reenee," Thaddeus said, sounding more amused than frightened. "No need for all of this." He began to walk towards her, reaching out for the knife.

She quickly slashed out at him, catching him by the arm. His exposed flesh was sliced, and blood dripped out of it and onto the forest floor. He cried out in pain and grasped at the wound. "You bitch!" he snarled.

Before Gerry could grab her, Irene turned around and ran back the way she came. Somehow, it didn't occur to her that she should scream and call out for Froglip. Perhaps she wanted to make sure the two men didn't hear her? But it didn't matter; all she was focused on was getting away from them. She kept a tight grip on her knife and urged her legs to carry her faster.

Soon, she found the tree that she had met them at. The arrow was still embedded in its bark. She grabbed it, pulled it out, and held both it and her knife out at the Thaddeus. He was the only once chasing her now; she didn't see Gerry anywhere. "I'm warning you!" she growled, trying to appear brave despite her legs beginning to shake. "Stay away from me, or I will cut both your throats!"

However, Thaddeus began laughing as though it were the funniest thing he had ever heard and seen. "You're a fiery young lady, aren't you?" he grinned. This simple sentence and expression made her want to sick back up the food she had just eaten. Now she was even more scared. "Your friend's not around, I'm afraid. So, you're coming with us, whether you like it or not."

From behind, Gerry grabbed her arms, causing her to drop both her weapons. She screamed as loud as she could. It wasn't even words, just a throaty, desperate scream.

"Shut your mouth!" Thaddeus growled, covering her mouth with his hand. She shuddered at the sweaty, smelly palm pressed against her face. She could feel tears of fright begin to flood her eyes. "Now you've made us  _both_  angry! And you don't want us angry!" He reached his other arm back, his hand fisted as if he were going to hit her.

Suddenly, a green hand grabbed his wrist, sinking its claws into his flesh. As he cried out in pain, another green hand grabbed the front of his shirt and spun him around.

Irene's eyes widened as Froglip roared in Thaddeus's face, still grasping him by the arm and shirt.

He threw the now pale man to the ground, and glared darkly at Gerry, who was still gripping Irene tightly by the arms. He threw her at the goblin, as if to distract him to get away. Froglip easily caught her and thrust her behind him in one motion. He slashed and punched at him. When Thaddeus tried to crawl away, he stepped on his back and dug in with his claw. His other foot shoved his head into the dirt.

The now-bleeding Gerry stepped forward and punched Froglip across the jaw. Barely-phased, he returned the punch in the stomach and kicked him in the chest. He sliced his throat with his claws. It wasn't enough to kill him, but enough to draw blood. He grabbed Thaddeus up with both hands and threw him against his friend, knocking them both to the ground.

When they both looked up, they saw an angry, green, human-like creature, with large ears, wild pink hair, and a black cape. It was standing in front of Reenee, legs spread apart and claws up, as if it were protecting her. She was cowering behind it, rubbing her arms. They saw a spear sticking out from behind its shoulder, and it was drooling and growling. They had never seen a creature like this, and they were both frightened and disgusted.

After a few seconds, the creature—whom they now realized had been the "friend" Reenee said she was with—smirked and, to their utter shock, uttered out a word, "Boo."

Screaming in terror, both men scrambled to their feet and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them. They didn't care that they were leaving behind their scattered weapons or remaining food. All they wanted to do was to get away from this creature.

Snorting after them, Froglip spun around and asked slowly, yet firmly, "What happened?"

"I-th-they invited me to eat, a-and they wanted t-t-to take me to Sk-Skewer Summ-m-mit," she answered, still shaking.

"Are you completely thick in the head?!" he snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders—though not as tightly as Gerry had gripped her arms—and shook her, looking very frustrated. "Do you have any idea what tho'the Th'un-Men wanted to do to you?! What they could have done?! What would have happened if I hadn't gotten here?!"

Irene did know what they wanted to do. But it never occurred that Froglip easily could have been too late. And that realization, as well as the fact that she had basically walked into their arms like a fly to a honey trap, scared her. The tears in her eyes began to fall, and before she knew it, she had her arms wrapped around him, and her face buried into his chest. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she sobbed.

Froglip stiffened as soon as the princess began hugging and apologizing to him. He hadn't been hugged for the past ten years—even then, only his mother hugged him—and so the unfamiliar contact made him a bit uncomfortable. Especially since it was a Sun-Person hugging him. Her squishy form felt strange against his harder body.

After a few seconds, he slowly and awkwardly patted her on the back. Then he gently pushed her away. "From now on, don't speak to any Sun-People. None at all. They cannot be trusted."

"All right," she nodded, sniffling.

"Did they know you were a-"

"-no."

"At least you were smart enough to not do that," he muttered. "Did they do any-"

"-no!"

He ignored her snap, recognizing that she was still traumatized by the event. He simply sighed, handed her her knife from where she had dropped it, and said quietly, "Let's go. We're losing daylight."

Nodding Irene followed him close behind, glancing around as if the two men were going to jump out again. She stayed close to Froglip, even contemplating grasping his cape in her hand like a child holding onto her father's pant leg. But she decided not to. Instead, she clutched at her knife as if it would protect her from all of the demons and monsters of the world.

Though the forest still frightened her, especially more so now because of what had happened, Froglip made her feel much safer.


	27. Chapter 26 -- Teaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

By the time evening finally rolled around, Froglip and Irene found a huge tree with a large hollow at the base, creating something of a cave. The cave was framed by the tree's roots, and it was dark, yet dry inside. There were no footprints or burned out fires, and Froglip could barely smell anything suspicious, animal, goblin, or human. So they decided this cave would suffice for the night.

As Irene began to step away to gather firewood, he grabbed her shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"To... to gather firewood?"

"We can do that later. Do you honestly think after those two  _Sun-Men_ ," he spat those two words out angrily, "that I'm going to leave you alone for even a second?"

"You can't keep your eyes on me forever," she countered, though she didn't try to push the goblin away. She was still feeling nervous about being left alone, but she also didn't be continuously-watched like she was a baby.

"I'll figure it out. When we stop for piss breaks, we'll stand back-to-back. If either of us gets into any more trouble like that, it'll only make the journey longer and more difficult. Now then, you're coming with me while I hunt for our dinner. You don't need to participate—you don't know how—but stay within my eyesight." With that, he turned on his heel and strode off into the forest, flicking his ears back as if to listen for Irene to follow him.

She sighed huffily and followed close behind. On the one hand, she understood what he was saying, and agreed with him to an extant. But on the other hand, she didn't want to watch him catch and kill animals, even for food.

As if he was reading her mind, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "This is something you'll have to get used to for now. Obviously you won't be put through such travesties once this is over, but just try to grin and bear it for now."

Smiling weakly, she nodded.

Eventually, they came upon a small flock of large, gray and pink birds. They were strutting about and pecking at the ground, unaware of the goblin and human watching them from the shadows. Froglip raised a finger to his lips to shush Irene, and began tiptoeing towards the birds. He stretched his legs out as he moved, moving himself quickly yet quietly. He had his spear in both hands, holding it close to his chest. Then, he stopped and rearranged his spear so he held it one hand over his shoulder, ready to throw it. He stood sideways to the fowl, staring at them and breathing slowly. Irene held her own breath in anticipation.

It was almost too fast to see. He threw the spear with quick straightening of his arm; one minute it was in his hand, and the next it pinned one of the large birds to the ground through its head. The other birds ran and flew away, squawking in fright.

"And that's how it's done," Froglip bragged proudly, brushing his hair back with a flick of his head. He strode up to the bird, pulled the spear out, and grabbed it up by the neck.

Irene felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the bird dying. She was sure she wouldn't be used to it. Had she not enjoyed meat as much as she did, she would have sworn off eating it by now. Not to mention food was scarce, seeing as she had began eating insects not too long ago, so they needed all the food they could find and gather.

She followed him back to the cave, picking up sticks for a fire on the way. In no time at all, they had cooked and eaten the bird. As Froglip picked between his teeth with a broken bone, he looked across the fire at Irene. She was sitting with her knees hugged to her chest, and was watching the flames dance about in shades of white, yellow, and orange. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, flicking the bone into the fire.

She flinched when the bone popped as it was burned away. "About what happened today."

"A lot happened t-"

"-I meant before we found this cave. I know I was terribly naive. It's just... I've seldom met anyone outside of the castle, especially when I wasn't in the care of my father, nurse, or handmaiden. And anyone I did meet never tried to harm me, or trick me in any way."

Froglip said nothing. He only continued to stare at the princess. He understood what she was saying, but it still boggled his mind that she was so trusting of those Sun-Men. But then again, who was to say he couldn't have been tricked in a similar way when he was less wise and more naive all several years back? His pride wouldn't admit it outwardly, though.

"Has anything like that happened to you?" she asked, poking at the fire with a long stick. "Even just someone trying to harm you?"

He still said nothing. But she noticed his fists and jaws clenched, and he seemed to stare off into space, as if recalling bad memories. "Were you able to defend yourself?" she continued, seeing that he wasn't going to explain fully.

"I fought back," he answered shortly, rubbing a hand over his eyes and down across his nose.

"Who taught you?"

"My mother."

"Could you teach me?"

This caught him off-guard. "Teach you what?"

"To fight," she said is if it were plainly obvious. "To defend myself, in case anything like today happens again."

"I already told you I wouldn't let you-"

"-but we can't be fully sure that something won't happen," she interrupted.

"Just don't approach any more Sun-People."

"I still want to learn," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms on her knees. "Besides, it could give me an advantage against Dirtclaw."

"Dirtclaw and Sun-People are very different. Hell, even he and  _goblins_  are vastly different. He has wings, for example. And he is very strong and ambitious."

"Froglip, please. It would make me feel so much more safer if I knew how to defend myself. Even if it's something as simple as knowing how to punch."

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with exasperation. If he had learned anything about the princess, it was that she was stubborn, and would continue on until she got what she wanted.

But he admired her ambition and dedication, as much as he loathed to admit. "... We'll start tomorrow," he finally said, putting out the fire with handfuls of dirt.

"Thank you," she smiled as she placed her bag on the ground to use as a pillow.

He said nothing as he lay down to sleep as well, spinning his cape around to use as a blanket.

* * *

Irene was awake the next morning, bright, early, and eager to learn some new things. Froglip was still asleep, so she thought about leaving to gather food for breakfast. But then she remembered how he wanted her to stay close to him so she didn't get in trouble again.

She still didn't want to be smothered, but she also found herself greatly appreciating that he seemed to be starting to care for her. Or at least doesn't want her to get hurt before they finish their mission and return home. Although she opposed to sticking close to him every minute of the day, she knew that even after a few seconds of being alone, she would run to find him again. She just didn't want to admit that she needed the protection, partly because she didn't like feeling like she should be protected, and partly because he was still her enemy; days ago, she would have added that he was a goblin, but that didn't really matter anymore. She just saw him as... another person. Not exactly like her, but somewhat like her all the same.

Soon, he began to stir. She sat down next to him, her hands on her knees, and waited as he sat up, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and yawned. "Good morning!" she chirped happily.

She got a grumble in return. "Shall we have breakfast so I can begin my training?"

"'Training'? Princess, I'm only teaching you how to punch and use your knife. I'm not training you for war." He scratched his scalp with his claws and stretched out his legs.

This didn't sour Irene's mood at all. She simply waited as they gathered berries and insects, and ate their breakfast. "How are you so cheery in the morning?" he asked.

"I've always been able to wake easily," she shrugged, slurping up a worm. She had realized some time ago that her nice table manners had disappeared sometime along the journey, but she found herself not caring.

After they finished breakfast, Frogilp and Irene stood outside the cave, face-to-face. "All right, show me how to make a fist," he said.

She held both of her hands up, balled up into fists. "No, that's not right," he shook his head. He grasped one of her wrists and unfolded her fingers with the other hand. "You have the curl of your fingers right, but your thumb is in the wrong place."

"Does it matter?"

Sighing with slight frustration, he instead answered patiently, "Yes, it does. If you make fists like this," he curled her hand back into her previous fist and pushed her fingers with his thumb, "and punch someone, you'll not only break your thumb, but probably your fingers. You need to move your thumb here," he pushed her thumb up so it was across her curled fingers instead of under them. "Not only will you not break your hand as easily, but your fist will also be tighter and damage your foe better."

Irene fixed her other fist, and found it felt more natural than how she had it before. And when he pressed on her fingers again, it didn't hurt as much. "All right, now what?"

He let her wrist go and held out his hand, palm facing her. "Punch my hand here as hard as you can."

"But won't I hurt you?"

"You can't possibly hurt me. You started this whole thing by making a fist wrong."

Furrowing her eyebrows, she punched his hand as hard as she could. "Decent, but still wrong." He wrapped his fingers around her fist, though not tight enough to hurt her. "Keep your wrist straight as you punch. Otherwise, you could break it. When you're punching, try to aim with these two knuckles," he let her fist go and tapped her first two knuckles with his fingers. "And don't keep them clenched between punches. Otherwise, you'll tire them out."

"So much to remember," she sighed.

"It will become second nature," he assured her. "Now, try again."

Trying to remember everything he told her, she punched Froglip's hand again. "That's better. Again."

This went on for a few minutes, with him correcting her posture, and switching hands. "Don't just use your arms when you're punching. Use your body to put more power into it. Watch." He turned to the side and punched the air in front of him a few times. She noticed that when he punched, he twisted himself at the hips.

"When you're punching, aim for sensitive targets. The face is a good one, but other ones are the belly, up the chin, in the throat, the groin-"

"-and the feet?" she smiled cheekily.

"If you're close enough to them," he answered, though she could see a ghost of a smirk. "But Dirtclaw will be harder, since he's not a Sun-Person, and he'll have his own advantages with his teeth and claws. If you can, punch his wings. If you're somehow able to break them, he'll be more vulnerable, and he won't be able to get away as well as he normally could."

She nodded. This definitely made sense, but she wasn't very confident in her ability to injure his wings. She had seen his wings, and they looked very strong. Perhaps she would be able to slice the membrane of one of his wings, but she would have to get close to him with her dagger in hand.

As if he heard her thoughts, Froglip reached into her bag, which was sitting on the ground against the tree, and pulled out the dagger. He pulled it from its sheath and held it horizontally in front of her, catching her eye over the blade. "Now, show me how you hold this," he said, taking the blade carefully between his fingers and thumb.

Irene grasped the handle tightly so the blade was pointing down to the ground. "That's a good start," he nodded. "But when you're holding it before attacking, have it inline with your forearm," he bent her wrist until it was as he suggested. "Don't hold it to your side, but in front of you. Unless you're coming in for a surprise attack. Like with your punch, put your weight into striking, but don't fall over. And for the love of everything, don't throw it!"

"Why would I throw it?"

"In case you think you can throw it and have it hit your opponent."

"Did you think you could do that?" She began giggling when he frowned and glanced to the side, his cheeks darkening. "You thought you could do that?"

"Mother wasn't pleased that I lost one of her knives," he muttered, quirking an eyebrow as the princess continued to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"I'm sorry. I really do appreciate this, so thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he brushed it off. "From now on, keep the dagger's sheath on your person."

"Even when I'm asleep?"

"Yes. You may need to get to it fast to defend yourself."

"What if I roll onto it and injure myself?"

"If it's in the sheath properly, it won't. Why did you take it off in the first place?"

"It was uncomfortable... and heavy," she flushed as she attached it to her belt and sheathed her dagger.

"That's something you'll have to get used to. I've seen Sun-People carrying swords and spears heavier than that little sharp piece of metal," he pointed out.

"It seems I have a lot to get used to," she sighed softly.

"That's some of the responsibility you have to have in order to make this trip," Froglip answered in a surprisingly gentle tone, holding out her bag. "And it's far, far too late to turn back now."

After a beat, she nodded and took back her bag. There was indeed a lot she would have to get used to, and most of it she won't have to put to use once she returned home. But for the time being, she was glad for the learning experience.


	28. Chapter 27 -- Swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> I've decided to try and upload two chapters a week, since I've recently realized it will take months to complete this story if I uploaded one chapter weekly.

Later on in the day, after a quick lunch, Irene and Froglip came upon a river. It was wide, moving fast, and judging by the small trees in the water, it was higher than usual.

When she looked back and forth along the shore of the river, Irene didn't see any sort of bridge, whether man-made or created by a fallen tree. She walked a few paces both ways along the bank, and still didn't see anything in the distance. "Well, it seems we have no choice but to cross," she sighed, crouching and dipping her hand in the water. The water was cold, to her dismay.

She turned back around, shaking the water from her hand, and was surprised to see Froglip standing further back than he was previously. His legs were stiff, and he was staring at the river as if it would turn into a wild animal and bite him. "C-cross it?" he asked wide-eyed. "Is there really no other way?"

"I don't see a bridge, and it would take too long to walk either way to see if there's one further up or down. Not to mention it would throw us off-course."

"Why don't we just... just walk beside it? Perhaps there's a bridge f-further down. Or even some large rocks."

"I just said it-" she froze in realization. "Froglip... are you afraid of the water?"

"It's not the water!" he snapped. "I can stand in water just fine! It's just... the thought of drowning."

Irene then remembered the last time she had seen Froglip ten years prior. The morning that the castle had flooded, and the water escaping from the castle forming a waterfall down the cliff it sat on. She and Curdie were swept down the rapids and trapped on a rock that was jutting out of the peak of the cliff. Froglip floated by and managed to climb on, and threatened to break Curdie's back. She had slipped and nearly fell in, if it weren't for her grabbing the rock in time, and when Froglip moved closer, she crushed his foot with her fist. While he was distracted by the pain, Curdie kicked him in the chest, sending him screaming down the waterfall.

_One minute, he was falling through the air. It felt like time had slowed, and that he would be in the air forever. The rock he had just been kicked from grew smaller and smaller, and he could feel and hear the wind whistling past his ears._

_But the next minute, he had plunged into the cold, deep water. And to his horror, his cape and hair thirstily sucked up as much water as they could, sinking him even quicker. It became dark all around him, and he still didn't reach the bottom._

_He would have screamed if it wouldn't have resulted in his early grave being one in a newly-created river. Instead, he paddled and kicked as much as he could, trying to breach the surface. His heavy cape and hair continued to feel as if rocks were tied to his back and head, but he stubbornly refused to lose his cape. He would be mocked for it later, but he didn't care at this point._

_All he cared about was getting air back into his lungs._

_But no matter how much he tried to swim up, it felt like he would never reach the surface. Had he fallen into the ocean? No, the water he tasted when he fell in didn't taste salty. And anyone who talked of the ocean mentioned the many fish, of all shapes, sizes, and colors. He couldn't see properly in the water, granted, but he didn't see or feel any fish._

_He could see the sun shining faintly through the water. He was reaching the surface. But he was beginning to tire, his lungs started to burn, and the edges of his vision were beginning to darken. His limbs began to feel heavy, and his cape and hair seemed to be trying to drag him deeper into the water. His eyes fluttered shut, and he could feel air bubbles gently escape his mouth and nose._

_Suddenly, something grabbed his arms. He was too exhausted to fight back if it was a predator. In fact, he almost welcomed the attack, as long as he didn't continue to slowly drown._

_But within a few seconds, he was kneeling on the bank, coughing and vomiting up water, and taking deep gasps for air. He was shaking like a leaf, and he could feel tears running down his cheeks. Someone was slapping his back, and two others were wringing the water out of his hair and cape. Another person was shouting at him, sounding suspiciously like his mother, but he paid no mind to it. He was so exhausted, all he wanted to do was sleep._

Froglip's flashback was abruptly interrupted when a hand laid itself on his arm. Flinching, he looked to see the princess standing by him, looking at him with concern. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though he somehow knew it wasn't for startling him. He was proven right when she continued, "But there is no way to cross it any other way than going across. And there isn't a bridge, so we  _have_  to wade across."

"'Wade'," he scoffed, laughing nervously as he jerked his arm away from her. "Princess, how do you know it's that shallow? Not to mention the storm from yesterday made it even higher, so who knows? We may have to swim!"

"Can you swim?"

"Of  _course_  I can swim! It doesn't mean I  _want_  to!"

"All right, listen to me!" she suddenly snapped, grabbing his face so he was facing her directly. "We'll try and get across this river quickly, yet steadily. Follow me, and we'll get across. And by the time we have to cross again to get home, perhaps it will lower, or there will be a bridge we didn't see. All right?"

Even though he would have been angry at being touched by a Sun-Person, much less the princess, Froglip didn't push her hands away or even shout at her. He listened to her speech, and was strangely comforted by the fact that she not only didn't mock him for his fear, as the other goblins had, but her assurance that they would get across. He could feel her hands on his cheeks, holding him tightly so he couldn't move. If he wanted to, though, he could pull his head from her grip, or even push her away. But he stood still. Her hands felt soft and warm, nothing like the leathery hands of his fellow goblins, and it felt strange that he didn't feel her fingernails pressing gently into his skin.

"... All right," he finally nodded, albeit shakily.

Nodding in return, Irene let his face go and turned back to the river. Though she didn't let it show, she was also nervous about crossing the river. Even if she hadn't been as deeply affected by the flood as her companion evidently had been, it still had left a scar on her. After all, her nightmares of being kidnapped by Froglip always ended with the water overtaking them.

But it was the only way, so she decided to face it onward and go through it, regardless of her fear. Taking a deep breath, she marched to the water, pausing only once when her feet sunk into the water. Her shoes soaked quickly, causing her feet and legs to become soaked and cold. And she could feel that the riverbed was made of both squishy mud and tiny little pebbles, creating an interesting and unsettling texture under her shoes. But she continued on until she was knee-deep. At that point, she stopped and looked back.

Froglip had followed her up until the edge of the river. His yellow eyes darted between the water and her, still looking nervous. Not even the tips of his toe claws, which were able to tap against stone if he were to walk on it, touched the water. She smiled and patiently held out her hand.

After a few seconds, he finally took a single step forward, shivering when his foot hit the cold water. He took another step, and another, until he was closer to the princess. She still held her hand out to him, still smiling encouragingly. Glancing once at her face, he took her smaller hand in his, squeezing tightly.

His skin was thick and rough, reminding Irene of a cross between a smooth stone and the calloused hands of Curdie. But unlike her best friend's hands, Froglip's felt even stronger, yet bonier. And she could feel the tips of his claws in the back of her hand, though they didn't sink in enough to draw blood. While Curdie's hands were indeed larger than hers, Froglip's were huge, encasing her hand easily in his light-green one. But although she could feel his strength, he didn't crush her hand. It touched her that this goblin, who had attempted to kidnap and harm her all those years ago, could also be so gentle. Even with her.

"One step at a time," she said, walking again slowly, all while still looking back at the goblin. When their arms stretched out, he followed after her.

After a little while of walking, the water reached Irene's chest and Froglip's waist. And it still continued to get deeper. She felt a pang of panic when she realized he was right in they would have to swim, but she didn't let it show. Not even after he realized as well and began to look like he would panic. "Don't look at the water, look at me!" she suddenly said, jumping up and kicking gently so that while she would swim backwards, she wouldn't stir up the water too much. "Just look at me, Froglip. We're nearly halfway there now. It will be all right."

He didn't know if he quite believed her. She couldn't possibly understand the panic he was going through. He felt his cape become heavier, and he knew if he had to swim his hair would get wet as well. It was the accompanying fear of his cape and hair getting wet and heavy that caused him to not wash his hair for several months. It took him so long to pluck up the courage to finally bathe himself entirely, and he had to do it all alone. Glump had offered to help, but Froglip was too prideful to allow the other goblin to help him.

Listening to the princess's voice, he stared her straight in the eye, trying his best not to panic and flounder about like a fly in the water. She was right about one thing though: they were halfway across the river. Only a few more minutes of this torture, and they would be out of the water. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he pushed off with his legs and began kicking as well.  _It's just a little ways away_ , he told himself.  _It won't be long, and you'll be walking on solid ground again._

What the traveling duo didn't realize was that there was a huge fallen tree further up the river. It was an old, dead tree, and the wind from the storm had caused it to tip to the side over the river. It wasn't nearly enough to create an adequate bridge though.

The water rushing by the bank the tree sat on caused the dirt to erode away slowly, yet steadily. But the bank couldn't stand on its own any longer. With a mighty splash, it collapsed into the river. This wouldn't have effected much, except the tree also fell in, causing the splash to grow even more. With that part of the bank gone, more water could rush through the river, enlarging the splash even more.

The water rushed down the river towards Froglip and Irene, looking like giant rapids falling down a mountain. They barely had time to see it before the wave overtook them both. To her horror, his hand slipped from her grip, and the water in her eyes prevented her from seeing where he went. She was sent head over heels down into the water. Her mouth opened in an instinctual scream, causing her choke on water. She paddled to the surface, and spat and coughed it up. "Froglip!" she cried out before she sunk into water again.

She paddled to the surface and began to frantically swim. She couldn't see where she was going until she managed to wipe the water from her eyes with one hand. Shaking the water from her face, she looked around desperately until she finally found the shore. She continued swimming, praying that she was headed for the shore she had been headed to originally. For the time being, nothing else mattered. Not where Froglip was, not her original mission that started it all, and not the fact that she had also lost her bag.

All that mattered was getting to shore before she drowned.


	29. Chapter 28 -- Mountain Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Digging her broken fingernails into the mud and pebbles of the river bank, Irene slowly crawled onto dry land. She was panting and coughing heavily, and felt very bruised and battered. Eventually, she collapsed on the bank. She could feel the cool mud under her cheek, and her feet were still in the water. The small waves from the river, which was only now calming down, licked at her legs and backside as if trying to apologize and comfort her. She knew that if she stayed there, something would come along and find her. More than likely a predator, like a bear, or a man.

But for the moment, she didn't care. All she wanted to do was rest.

Just as she felt herself drifting off to sleep, she heard footsteps approaching her. Her immediate thought was to get up and run, especially if it wasn't Froglip. But her limbs felt as heavy as stone, so she continued to lay in the mud. Perhaps they would think she's dead and move on.

An older, male voice exclaimed, "Oh my good Lord! Are you all right, my dear?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran up to Irene and helped her to her feet. She clung to his arm and buried her face into his chest. She remembered when the two men had tried to take advantage of her the previous day, but while, looking back, they were acting suspicious from the start, this gentleman sounded genuine and concerned. "What happened?" he asked.

"Tried to... swim across river," she muttered weakly. "My friend..."

"We'll worry about that later," the man said. He began to slowly lead her away from the river, laying a hand across her back. She leaned against him as she walked, cringing at the squishy sounds coming from her shoes as she took each step.

After a few minutes of walking, Irene lifted her eyes to see a cabin. It wasn't very big, but after sleeping in caves, trees, and on the ground for five days, it looked absolutely glorious. She could barely see a garden behind it, and a stretched animal skin on a wooden frame stood several paces away from the door.

The man opened the door and ushered her inside. He sat her down on a chair and went into a different room. While she waited for him, she glanced about the cabin. The room she was in was the largest, containing a table and a few chairs, a short, round stove, a pile of logs by the stove, and another far more comfortable chair. When the man had opened the second door, she caught a glimpse of a bed in the smaller room.

He stepped back into the room, carrying something in his arms. Brushing her still-wet hair out of her eyes, she was finally able to see her good Samaritan clearly. He was an older man, reminding her of her father. He had long gray hair that reached his shoulders, and a beard that reached his collar bones. His kind eyes were brown, and he was dressed in clothing that was obviously handmade and created from animal skins. In his arms were a large cloth and a nightgown. "My name is Reenee," she said quietly, deciding it would be best to use her false name again, just in case.

"You can call me the Mountain Man, my dear," he smiled, handing her the cloth. She used it to dry herself off and squeeze her hair out. "This is one of my wife's nightgowns. You can wear it until your clothes are dried."

"She won't mind, will she?" she asked, exchanging the damp cloth for the nightgown.

"I assure you, she won't. Once you've changed, I'll set out your clothes by the stove to dry, and make us some food," he said as he began to tend to the stove. "You must be starving."

Nodding absentmindedly, she walked into the bedroom to change out of her soaked clothes. Inside the room was a large bed with two pillows and a bearskin blanket. When she glanced out the window, she saw a large stone with some carvings on it. It was also raining again; not heavily, but still steadily. Looking closely at the stone, she realized the carvings said "Claire, Beloved Wife". She smiled sadly and sent a prayer of thanks to Claire as she changed into her nightgown.

She gasped sharply when she touched her chest and didn't feel her necklace. She searched along her neck, but couldn't feel it at all. Tears sprung in her eyes when she realized it must have fallen off in the river. She also realized she didn't have her bag with her. It must have fallen into the river as well. Wherever it was, her books were probably ruined.

Sighing, she left the bedroom and held out her wet clothes to the Mountain Man. "Why do you look so sad, Reenee?" he asked gently as he set her shoes by the stove and hung her clothes on a wire.

"I had a necklace and bag before I tried to cross the river," she explained, sitting back on the chair. She smoothed the wrinkles on her lap out of the light-brown nightgown.

"I'm very sorry, but I didn't see either of them when I found you."

"It's all right," she said sadly.

"What happened to you? You said you were trying to cross the river, and that you had a friend. The river is very high at the moment, and trees are falling into it left and right. It's a wonder you didn't drown or get hurt on the rocks."

"My friend and I are trying to reach Skewer Summit. A great creature killed our parents, and we believe he's fled there. We're trying to get there to kill him."

"Kill him, eh? That sounds like a grand adventure," he chuckled as he began to fix a bowl of delicious-smelling food. It smelled like porridge; a simple peasant dish, but after what little food she had on the journey, Irene was willing to eat anything.

"It has been so far," she admitted with a whimsical smile. "Until the river, that is."

"And your friend. What does he look like, so I can go looking for him in the morning?"

"He's... well, he's a goblin."

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "I can't say I've never heard of a human befriending a goblin."

"They normally aren't very friendly creatures. But this one... we've experienced a shared trauma, so we were able to make this journey with a truce and shared goal. He's light-green, with pink hair and yellow eyes. He wears a teal loincloth and a pink and black cape. Oh, and his arm is wrapped."

"And his name?"

"Froglip."

"Froglip. Definitely a memorable name." He brought the two bowls of porridge to the table, along with two spoons, and they both began to eat. She felt much better now that hot food was settling into her belly, making her feel warm and happy. It was almost like being at home with her father, sitting by the fire as he told her stories, with cups of warm ale in their hands, and Turnip curled up at her feet.

The memory caused a tear to fall down her cheek. "Are you all right, Reenee?" The Mountain Man asked, concerned.

"Oh, yes," she answered, wiping the tear away. "I was thinking of my father."

"He was killed by this beast, I presume?"

"Yes. And Froglip's parents were killed by him as well." She jumped when she saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye, and heard a loud rumble of thunder a few seconds after.

"We've been having such awful weather lately," the Mountain Man remarked, glancing out the window. The rain had picked up as well. "So, where did you come from?"

"We came from a village," she answered.

"Goblins and humans live together in a village?" he raised an eyebrow with an amused smile.

"Er, w-we live near their territory, so Froglip and I w-are able to interact." That technically wasn't a lie, as Froglip's old territory was a few minutes of a walk from her castle.

"Ah, I see."

Deciding to try and change the subject, Irene asked, "What of you?"

"Me? I'm merely a humble furrier," he chuckled, gesturing at his clothes. "I'm sure you've seen the skin stretched out outside, and my bearskin blanket on my bed. As well as... well, everything else in here."

Looking around the room, she saw a deerskin stretched out on the floor under the table and chairs, and pieces of squirrel fur on the table under their bowls. She ran her fingers over the soft fur on the table, and wriggled her toes in the stiff fur under her feet. "It all looks lovely," she complimented.

"Thank you. It doesn't bring me much fame, although I  _was_  able to make a cloak for the king many years ago."

"King Jamison of Porumbel?"

"Indeed," he nodded, eating the last of his porridge. "Not many people believe it–not that I get very many visitors, mind you–but it's a memory I enjoy nonetheless."

She recalled her father's favorite cloak. He said it was made from wolf fur; it was grayish-brown, lined with white. It was thick and soft, and he only wore it on special occasions.

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding at the door. Irene and the Mountain Man both jumped to their feet. She backed up against the opposite wall, and he grabbed a nearby knife. "Who's out there?!" he yelled out.

It was silent for a few seconds, save for the rain and occasional thunder. Then, there was more pounding. "You wanna come in?! You'll have to go through  _me_!"

The doorknob began turning frantically, and then the door was opened with such brute force, the figure almost fell into the cabin and onto the floor. It was a tall, lanky figure with large ears and long hair. They wore a cape, had a bag over their shoulder, a spear sticking out over their other shoulder, and were soaking wet. They brushed the hair back away from their eyes and stared into the cabin.

Lightning flashed behind the figure, lighting them up. They had round eyes, a bulbous nose, an ugly face, and single-toed feet. Around their neck was a necklace with a bird and stone pendant, feathers, and petals.


	30. Chapter 29 -- Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

"Irene!" the figure cried out, stepping further into the cabin and slamming the door behind him.

"Froglip!" Irene exclaimed, leaping to her feet and launching herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him, not caring at all that he was soaking wet. He stood stiff, similar to the last time she hugged him. Remembering that he didn't seem to like being hugged, she began to loosen her arms.

To her surprise, he slowly wrapped his arms around her as well. He didn't hug her as tight, but it was obvious he was happy to see her.

"'Irene'?" the Mountain Man asked in confusion, lowering his knife when he saw the intruder meant no harm, and was in fact her friend. "I thought your name was Reenee?"

She flushed when she realized she had been caught in her lie. Froglip drew her closer to himself and glared at the Sun-Man over her head with a growl. "Froglip, he saved me!" she protested, prying his arms off of herself. Turning to the man in question, she confessed, "And... my name  _is_  Irene."

"Irene... as in Princess Irene of Porumbel?"

"Yes... and Froglip is a prince."

"Why are you telling this Sun-Man our stories?!" he snapped.

"Because he helped us!"

"All right, let's save the arguing and confessing for later. For now, you need to get into dry clothes before you catch a cold," the Mountain Man said firmly, laying a hand on Froglip's shoulder briefly. He ignored him as he shoved his hand away, and instead fetched another large cloth so the goblin could dry himself off.

As the Sun-Man went into another room, Froglip squeezed out his hair and cape, and dried himself off. He laid the cloth on his head and rubbed vigorously to further dry his hair. When he removed the cloth, Irene began giggling. "What?" he deadpanned.

"Your hair," she laughed, pointing at him.

Turning to a nearby window, he saw his reflection. His hair was sticking about and frizzy, making him look crazy. Eventually, he chuckled as well and brushed his hair down to calm it. "Oh, I found these," he remarked, dropping her bag to the ground with a wet plop, and removing the necklace from around his neck.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed with a gasp, latching the necklace around her own neck. It was wet, but the feathers and petals weren't harmed otherwise. She smiled softly as she touched the pendant. It felt so good to have it back,

"Erm, I think your books are ruined," he muttered, lifting one of them out of the bag. It was soaking wet, and when he opened it, the pages were wrinkled and smeared.

"I-it's all right," she sighed, still feeling a little heartbroken. "I'm just relieved that you're fine."

He looked at her with a slightly confused expression. But before either of them could say any more, the Mountain Man returned with a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. "It may be 'Sun-Man', clothes, but it's better than being in wet clothes," he remarked.

Only replying with a humph, Froglip took the clothes and stalked into the bedroom. "He's... um, he's probably still upset about the river," Irene shrugged.

"Well, at least he's not dangerous... right?"

"No, he won't harm you. Not if  _I_  have anything to say about it. Besides, if he tries to harm you, you can fend him off-"

"-by stomping his foot or singing, am I right?" He smiled when she stared at him in astonishment. "I've heard plenty about goblins, including their weaknesses."

"Have you? How? The goblins live far away, back near my castle."

"There are many goblins out in the world, my dear. More than you know."

Before she could ask more, Froglip walked back into the main room, carrying his cape and loincloth. The clothes on him were baggy, and he looked very strange to be completely clothed. But he was now dry, and despite looking grumpy, also looked like he felt a little better.

As the Mountain Man hung his clothes to dry beside Irene's, the goblin propped his spear against the wall and sat in the chair closest to it. "At least you didn't lose that," Irene nodded at the weapon.

"Oh, I would have been pissed  _off_  if I had lost it!"

They waited while the Mountain Man made another bowl of porridge and set it out for Froglip. Once he had eaten a few mouthfuls—he pretended not to enjoy it, but he was still eating regardless- the Sun-Man asked, "All right, now that we've calmed down, have dried off, and have food in our bellies... what is the true story?"

"Most of it is true," Irene assured him. "Aside from my name and where Froglip and I live, the rest is true."

"I see."

"How did you find us, Froglip? I couldn't find you in the river."

"Yes, because the stupid river separated us!" he hissed, trying and failing to conceal a shudder. He started telling his side of the incident.

* * *

_His hand slipped away from the princess's, and he was sent tumbling down the river like a cork from a bottle. His cape somehow latched itself on his face, and he crashed against the bottom of the river every know and then. His mind flashed back to when he was kicked down the waterfall over and over, as if to mock him._

_As if to taunt him that this time, there would be no one to help him out of the water. No one but himself._

_With this in mind, he planted his feet at the bottom of the river and pushed off as hard as his legs could go. As soon as he breached the surface, he began to paddle for shore. He hoped he was reaching the right one; after this, he wasn't even going swimming in a pond unless he could clearly see the bottom. But the river seemed determined to drown him. He was sent underwater again, and he had to swim frantically to reach the surface again._

_Looking to where the river was rushing, he saw a large branch hanging over the water. It was low enough that if he timed it right, he could grab it. And upon remembering which way the river was flowing when he started to cross, it was even on the right side. Glaring with determination, he reached out as he approached the branch. He wrapped his arms tightly around it. He was able to lift the lower half of his body up, and wrap his legs around it as well. The river dragged his cape along, as if it was trying to either pull him back in. Or at least choke him._

_But he inched along the branch until he was above dry land. He let himself go, and fell on his back with a heavy thunk._

_He lay there for several minutes, panting and coughing heavily. Finally, he rolled onto his sore arms and knees. He remained that way for a few more seconds, trying to gather his bearings. When he looked up across the river, he recognized the trees and pathway. He had indeed made it across, and with only a bruised body and pride._

_He let out a relieved chuckle, which turned into a bigger and bigger laugh until he was cackling like a mad goblin. He calmed himself down quickly after realizing he was all alone. There was no Sun-Woman with cropped-short red hair around to ask why he was laughing so crazily. Or to check if he was all right._

" _Princess!" he yelled out as loud as his bruised lungs would allow him. He coughed a few times before trying again, and a third and fourth time._

_Nothing. Now he was getting nervous, despite himself. He almost wanted to hear her whistle a tune to let him know she was at least alive. He looked around as he squeezed his hair and cape out, and began walking along the bank until he found the place they had been aiming for. "Princess! Come out wherever you are!"_

_But nobody came._

_His foot gently brushed against something bulky, soft, and wet. Looking down, he saw it was the princess's shoulder bag. He lifted it up and watched as the water dripped from it. He opened the flap and found that everything inside was soaking wet. Cradling the bag in one arm, he opened one of the books and was dismayed to see the pages were smeared and tore easily._

" _Princess!" he shouted again, glancing around. Still nothing. He shouldered the bag and continued down the bank. The bag felt heavy on his shoulder, and it felt wrong to be carrying it. Not because it didn't belong to him, but because someone else had always carried it. Glancing at the ground, he saw something else. Something sparkling along the shore. He crouched down and looked closely._

_His heart clenched briefly when he saw it was the princess's necklace, half buried in the mud as if the river was trying to hide evidence of what it had done. He lifted the necklace up, and water dripped off of it too. The latch seemed to have been simply been somehow unlatched, rather than broken. And the feathers and petals were completely soaked, but still looked as fresh as they appeared five days prior before the princess and he started their journey._

" _Princess, where are you?!" he yelled once again. This time, there was an answer. Unfortunately, it wasn't one he wanted: rain._

_His expression changed from bewildered to annoyed as the rain picked up. He could feel his ears bouncing lightly as the heavy drops fell onto and dripped off of them. Sighing heavily, he latched the necklace around his neck and began looking for tracks before the rain washed them away. Luckily, he was able to find small footprints that led from the river. But unfortunately, there were bigger tracks with them. A Sun-Man's tracks, if he had ever seen them. And it looked like they were walking with the princess, so it wasn't as if they had been in the same place at different times._

_He growled as he began to follow them. The rain continued to pour down, and he saw a flash of lightning and heard a rumble of thunder. "Haven't you learned, Princess?"_

_He froze briefly in realization. When had he began referring to her as "princess" instead of "Sun-Princess"? Thinking back, the first time he could remember calling her it was after the two Sun-Men had tried to hurt her and he rescued her._ Ha, ain't that sweet?  _he thought to himself._ Next thing you know, you'll be calling her by her real name.

_He scoffed, "Yeah, right. She's still a disgusting Sun-Woman, no matter what I call her."_

Then why are you concerned for her? And why are you bothering to look for her?

" _I'm not! And I'm looking for her because we're in this together!"_

How noble of you. Are you sure you aren't worried about her? After all, you're searching for her like you actually miss her.

" _I do-o_ _h, lovely. I'm talking to myself," Froglip growled. "As if there isn't enough wrong with me, I've got voices in my head."_

_But as he continued to walk—the tracks were gone by now, and he was simply walking in a straight line—he also continued to think. Why was he calling her something different now? Why was he so concerned when he found her bag and necklace but not her? Why was he worried about her now that he knew she wasn't alone? "I've been spending far too much time away from home and with the enemy," he remarked, brushing his hair back for what felt like the hundredth. The wind had also picked up, and it seemed to be pushing him along his path. It was as if some greater entity was urging him to hurry up and find her._

_Eventually, he came upon a small Sun-Person house made of logs. He could see light flickering through the curtains of the windows, so he knew someone was inside. He pressed an ear against the door to try and listen through it. He backed away a step, stuck his little finger in his ear to clear the water out of it, and pressed it against the door again. Through the wood, and over the rumble of thunder, he could barely hear two voices. One was a deeper, distinctly-male voice, and the other was a higher, fairer female voice; he recognized the latter._

_With a growl, he began pounding at the door with his fist. After a few seconds, he heard the Sun-Man yell, "Who's out there?!"_

_Rolling his eyes, he began pounding at the door again. He was about to shout to be let in when the Sun-Man continued, "You wanna come in?! You'll have to go through_ _ me _ _!"_

Oh, forget this! If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself! _He grabbed at the doorknob and twisted it several times. When it finally clicked open, he shoved the door in with his shoulder and stumbled into the cabin. Lightning flashed behind him, illuminating the inside of the house. He saw a gray-haired Sun-Man standing in the middle of the room, wielding a large knife. The princess was standing back against the wall, looking terrified._

* * *

"And well, you know the rest," Froglip finished. He had left out the facts that he was wondering why he was bothering to look for Irene, was wondering why he had forgone calling her "Sun-Princess", especially in favor for her real name now and why he was worried about her in general. In fact, he made it seem like he wasn't worried at all, only frustrated.

"Well, as I told Irene, you're lucky to survive, Froglip," the Mountain Man remarked.

"It was mostly my fault," Irene said quietly, picking at one of her fingernails. "I was the one who urged Froglip to cross, even though he was... uncomfortable. I hadn't realized the river would overtake us-"

"-Exactly," the Mountain Man interrupted. "You couldn't have known what happened. Yes, you made a rash decision, but you'll learn from it. Especially as you travel to fight this foe. Incidentally, tell me about him."

"His name is Dirtclaw," she explained as Froglip finished his food. "He's a great big black wolf with red eyes, brown claws-"

"-Does he have wings like a dragon, and many scars?"

Choking briefly on his food, Froglip swallowed it and asked, "How'd you know?"

"Several months ago, a large pack of wolves—probably about thirty of them—came running through the forest. They were led by the wolf you mentioned, and I swear on my life that he was twice the size of the biggest. After about an hour, there were goblins."

"Goblins?"

"Goblins?" both Irene and Froglip exclaimed in surprise.

"They looked similar to you, Froglip. They were large, had simple clothing, and were in many colors. They were running away from the wolves. I don't know about you two, but it was obvious to  _me_  that those wolves chased the goblins away from their home."

"Is Skewer Summit nearby?" Froglip asked, furrowing his eyebrows in though. "It's a large mountain that looks like it's made of shards of glass."

"There  _is_  such a mountain that's a couple days of a walk from here. I'd be willing to bet that that's also where the goblins came from"

"We're so close, Froglip!" Irene exclaimed gleefully.

"You can start the journey there tomorrow after breakfast," the Mountain Man announced. "You two are more than welcome to stay the night."

"Even a goblin like me?" he asked sarcastically.

"Despite pounding at the door like a mad man... or, Sun-Man, rather, it's obvious that Irene trusts you. And besides, I know how to defend myself against goblins."

"Thank you so much, Mountain Man," Irene smiled, standing and bowing her head.

"Of course, my dear. There  _is_  one issue though..."


	31. Chapter 30 -- Parents and Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Froglip and Irene both stared at the bed, glancing awkwardly at each other every now and again. Ever since the Mountain Man had confessed he only had the one bed, she felt like her face was on fire. Froglip wasn't blushing, but he looked just as uncomfortable, if not simply frustrated.

"We can't just take your bed," she had protested.

"Nonsense, you're both my guests, and you have a long journey ahead of you. I can simply sleep on my chair, it's as comfortable as my bed. You two just make yourself at home and get as much sleep as you can." the Mountain Man had answered, waving a hand.

Irene sighed heavily as she stared at the bed. It looked like the mattress was stuffed with straw—she could smell it, but there weren't any tiny pieces sticking out. The pillows also smelled like straw, and the blanket was entirely bearskin. The long, thick fur was nearly black in color. It was a large bed, and it looked very comfortable.

After a few more silent seconds, Froglip sighed heavily. "Well, might as well get it over with," he grumbled. He propped his spear against the wall next to the right side of the bed, pulled his shirt off, and tossed it onto the ground. He moved the bearskin blanket aside and sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced down at it in surprise as the mattress sunk under him.

"You've never slept in a Sun-Person bed?" Irene teased good-naturedly, sitting in the bed as well. The mattress sinking pleasantly surprised her, as it had been so long since she had slept in a proper bed.

"No!" he snapped, as if it should be obvious. "Goblins have only slept on stone beds."

"Well, that can't be comfortable. Doesn't your back ever hurt?"

"Us goblins aren't as pervious to pain as you Sun-People are."

 _Apparently so_ , she thought snarkily. She lay down in the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She sighed happily, already feeling warm and cozy.  _Don't get too spoiled, you'll be sleeping on the ground or in trees for the next few days,_  she told herself. But for now, she relished the simple joy in sleeping in a normal bed.

Froglip bounced a few times on the bed, still looking down at it baffled. The softest thing he had ever slept on was grass, and that already felt strange in comparison to his old bed, which had been entirely made of rock. This bed felt soft and strange; though not completely uncomfortable. Following Irene's lead, he sat all the way on the mattress, pushing his legs under the bearskin blanket. It indeed felt nice and warm. He lay his head back against the pillow. The crunching of the straw was uncomfortable in his ears, but once he settled down, it felt... nice.  _Perhaps I should figure out how to make this sort of bed when I return home?_

"Froglip?"

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "What?"

"What were your parents like?"

He stiffened at the question. "Wh-why do  _you_  want to know?"

"I'm curious," she shrugged. "I only know what I've heard of from Curdie and what I've seen of them. I want to know about them through  _your_  eyes."

"Well... you'll have to tell me more about  _your_  own parents too."

"... I suppose that's only fair," she answered softly.

"All right... my mother was named Suevite. She was the definition of a goblin queen: stern, loud, and tough. She didn't take anything from  _anyone_! Even though my father was the king, it was obvious she made the decisions, especially when she had to hurry him along when he was speaking. But she loved me very dearly. She would do anything for me... up until I failed the plan."

"And your father?"

"Dolomite was his name. He was... he was a loved king, but he wasn't that good of one, in my opinion. He was much meeker in comparison to my mother, and it took him forever for him to finish a sentence because he was always sniffling and sneezing. But when he could be, he was a commanding goblin, and everyone was quick to follow his lead."

"Do you miss them?"

It seemed like such a simple question, with an incredibly easy answer. But Froglip found himself hesitating and thinking until he finally gave an answer, "Yes. They may have banished me for ten years, and never bothered to visit—hell, the only communication I had with them was through Glump. But... I  _do_  miss them. Glump had told me they said I would be able to come home... but I was too stubborn to go. I liked being on my own, and I think I was simply staying away from them to try and punish them. And I was sure the kingdom wouldn't accept me, especially since I had ruined our grand plan. If I had followed Glump's advice... it would have been the first time in ten years that I had seen and spoken with my parents... alive, that is."

Irene felt very hollow and glum at this revelation. He had mentioned a few times how he had been banished from his home for ten years, and heard him gripe about how unfair it was. But she had never put two and two together to realize he hadn't seen them in so long. And now because of his stubbornness and Dirtclaw, he would never see or speak to them again. She obviously didn't have a part in this, but she still felt awful. She couldn't have imagined being separated from her father for so long, have an opportunity to see him again, and have it ripped away because of her own decision and someone else's action.

"Anyway, you said you'd talk about your parents. What was your father like?" Froglip asked, soundind a little choked up.

"My father was called Jamison," she answered, clearing her throat. "He was a good king. He was kind, fair, and gentle. He had opted to hear you out about your parents' deaths, and didn't consider executing you at all. He recognized that whether it was truly one of us that had done it, or if it was something else, it was something that would endanger us all."

"He sounded smart... for a Sun-Man."

"He was," she chuckled.

"And your mother?"

"... I honestly don't remember my mother much. Father told me that before I was born, she had become ill. Everyone was worried that they would lose both her and me, but we survived. However, she died a few months after."

"Do you remember  _anything_?"

"Not really, but when I look at paintings of her, or the stained glass windows of her, I feel almost... nostalgic. Like I would be able to remember her if I just try hard enough, but I never can. But my father said she was a kind woman, who loved reading and telling stories, and was very open-minded."

"What was her name?"

"Helene. My father told me it meant something like 'torch'. He took it to mean she was the light of his light."

"Cute," the goblin deadpanned, causing Irene to giggle. "Do you miss him?"

"Very much so," she nodded.

"Well, in a few short days, we'll have our revenge on Dirtclaw."

"This isn't just about revenge, Froglip," she said, turning to him with a stern expression. "This is about ridding the world of a monster."

"There will always be monsters."

"True, but if we can get rid of one monster, especially one that has hurt us both, I'll be happy. I just want to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else ever again." She yawned loudly as she finished her sentence.

"We should probably get some sleep," Froglip said softly.

"Yes, you are right," she answered, snuggling down into the bed. "Good night."

"... Good night."

* * *

It only seemed like a few minutes later that Irene felt the warmness of the morning sun against her cheek. Feeling the soft mattress under her body and the bearskin blanket on top of herself, she almost forgot where she was.

But there was something else unfamiliar. Her face and body were snuggled against flesh, and she felt arms wrapped around herself.

Looking up, her eyes widened when she saw that it was Froglip she was cuddled against. He was still fast asleep. One ear was folded back under his head, and the other was sticking straight up, twitching once in a while. Drool was dripping out of the corner of his mouth, leaving a puddle on the pillow, and she could hear him softly snoring.

She glanced him up and down, feeling her face flush with embarrassment again. She wondered if he had pulled her against himself in his sleep in the middle of the night.  _Well, of course he did it in his sleep! After all, he still hates Sun-People, no matter how bonded you two are. There is no way he will ever willingly snuggle with any Sun-Person, much less you._

That raised another thought, though very minor. When they started the journey, Froglip had called her "Sun-Princess". After he had rescued her from the two men, he began calling her simply "Princess". But upon finding her the previous night, she noticed he had begun to call her by her given name. She wondered if he had noticed.

She glanced him up and down before attempting to get out. She had never looked at him closely before, especially since she was never close enough to him to get a good look. Despite being goblin, he looked incredibly... human. His skin was simply a different color, and when she laid a hand on his chest, his flesh felt thicker and stronger. He was incredibly muscular, yet still as lanky as she remembered. She could feel the muscle under her fingers as she ran her hand across his chest and onto one of his arms, squeezing gently. When she realized what she was doing, she pulled her hand away as if it were on fire, and could feel her face heat up again.  _Time to get up, me thinks._

She carefully moved the arm that was under her so it wasn't wrapped around her, lifted the arm that was on top of her, and rolled away from him. Luckily, he didn't wake up; he merely shifted in his sleep, snorting a little. Sighing with relief, Irene carefully climbed out of bed. She smiled when she saw her clothes were folded on her side of the bed, with her shoes sitting in front of them. Looking to the opposite side of the room, she saw Froglip's cape and loincloth folded in a pile as well.

She changed out of the nightgown and into her clothes, and folded and left it on the ground. Stretching her arms and yawning, she left the bedroom.

In the main room, the Mountain Man was awake and making breakfast. "Good morning, Irene," he greeted with a smile.

"Good morning, Mountain Man," she answered. "What are you making for breakfast?"

"Oh, just bread with jelly, nothing special."

"It smells wonderful," she answered. "What sort of jelly?"

"Gooseberry. I grow them behind my cabin."

"I  _do_  love gooseberries," she smiled. "And thank you for setting our clothes in our room."

"You two looked so comfortable, I didn't wish to disturb you," the Mountain Man grinned cheekily. He laughed as Irene blushed bright-red, looking mortified. She wondered if she would be permanently red by the time she returned home. "Oh, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, my dear. I'm sure it was merely you both reaching for comfort in your sleep."

"Y-yes," she nodded, brushing her hair back and waving her face to try and chase away the embarrassment.

By the time Froglip had wandered out of the bedroom, Irene's face was no longer red, and she was eating a piece of bread with gooseberry jam, and a glass of water. He was wearing his cape and loincloth again, and had his spear on his back. He stretched his arms out, yawn loudly, and scratched at the back of his head. She chuckled at the face he made after yawning; his eyes were half-closed, his tongue was sticking out of his mouth a little, and he had a lazy smile. "Good morning," the Mountain Man greeted him, setting two more plates of jammed bread and glasses of water on the table.

"'Morning," Froglip mumbled, sitting at the table.

Irene watched him as he ate his food. He didn't seem to appear nervous or flushed, and when he glanced at her, he raised an eyebrow as if to silently ask what was wrong. She shook her head as she took a bite from her bread. He shrugged as he swallowed his food and took a drink. "So, where's Skewer Summit from here?"

"I'll show you the way once we're finished with breakfast," the Mountain Man promised, starting to eat his own food as well. "Like I said, you should reach it in three days, perhaps two if you're quick enough."

Once they were finished eating breakfast, the man did as he promised, and pointed them in the direction of the mountain. "Since you know what it looks like, you'll know it when you reach it," he remarked.

"Thank you for all your help, kind sir," Irene said, bowing her head.

"I was simply helping out two strangers, my dear. I don't need any elaborate thanks in return. But when you  _are_  able to kill Dirtclaw, bring back his body. Perhaps I'll be able to make him into a cloak," he chuckled.

"That would be fabulous!" Froglip grinned widely. "We shall do that before we get home!"

"Good bye, Mountain Man," Irene waved as she followed her companion away from the cabin.

"Good bye, Irene and Froglip. And best of luck to you both!"


	32. Chapter 31 -- Rant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

It had been several minutes since Froglip and Irene had left the Mountain Man's cabin. Though her face had faded back to its pale-peach color, she still hadn't forgotten how she had woken up. And it seemed that he still didn't know about it. Which was absolutely fine with her. She decided it would be something she would keep secret for the rest of her life.

But it wasn't merely the fact that she had woken up, snuggled up to him, that made her so uncomfortable. It was the fact that she didn't mind it at all.

"You all right?"

She jumped when the goblin spoke up. "Y-yes, I'm all right," she nodded, praying that her face wouldn't heat up again. "Just thinking."

"You do that too much, and your head will explode," he smirked, ruffling her hair so it was messy. She groaned and combed down her hair with her fingers. "I'm still not used to seeing you with short hair. I remember when you were a Sun-Girl, you had such long hair."

"Yes, I remember too," she smiled, playing with the ends of her hair. Thinking of her younger self reminded her of something else. Something she had been pondering on for a long time, but never had a good opportunity to ask. "Froglip... why exactly do goblins live in the mountain?"

He froze mid-step at her question. He put his foot down, slowly turned to her and asked, "No one told you?"

"... No?"

His astonished expression turned to one of frustration, and he ran his hand over his eyes, sighing heavily. "Of course no one would tell you, of all Sun-People, about our history. Why bother? Nothing conth'erning goblin'th would ever be important! Who care'th about u'th?"

"History? Wh-Froglip, what happened?"

"What happened?! I'll tell you what happened!" Now he was standing in the middle of the forest, shouting as if he had been harshly insulted. His arms flew about as he gestured dramatically while speaking, and his cape flapped around with his movements, "Hundred'th of year'th ago, u'th goblin'th lived  _above_  ground! Along't _hide_  the Th'un-People! But we were driven underground by tho'the Th'un-People! And do you know why?!"

"N-no," she shook her head.

"Becau'the they tried to for'the u'th! For'the u'th to obey  _their_  law'th! To help other'th; be friendly to Th'un-People!" he spat, laughing. He wiped the drool away from his mouth with his bandaged arm. "How could tho'the Th'un-People think we would th'tand for that! Tho'the th'niveling, cowardly creature'th! With their th'oft head'th, and their th'oft feeling'th! Th'o they de'thided the beth't cour'the of action wa'th to banish u'th to the mountain'th and tunnel'th!"

Irene had moved away from the direction he was speaking to not get soaking wet again. From the way he was speaking—or shouting, rather—it sounded like it wasn't the first time he had this rant. And she decided it would be best to let him speak, both to let him answer her question and to let him get it off of his chest. This was something he was obviously passionate about. And from what he was saying, thinking from his point-of-view, she didn't exactly blame him.

"And it wa'th put upon  _me_  to put an end to our exile! Our initial plan, my  _parent'th_  plan, wa'th to flood the mine'th! You probably noti'thed we had dammed nearly an ocean'th worth of water, ye'th? Well, our plan wa'th to relea'the the damn into the mine'th, and to drown all of the Th'un-People in it. But it wa'th  _not_  enough! I de'thided th'omething much nath'tier muth't be done! And then, Mother came to me with a brilliant idea."

"And that idea?" she asked hesitantly.

"She told me about  _you_! What I didn't reali'the wa'th that there wa'th another royal in the neighborhood. A di'thguth'ting Th'un-Per'thon, but royalty regardle'th! And whoever wa'th to marry you would become king of the Th'un-People! Mother didn't directly tell me the idea, but she practically did! And on'the I learned about you, I crafted a better plan for our retribution! An ultimate revenge!" He was now pacing in front of Irene. He was so invested in what he was saying, it almost seemed like he had forgotten that she was there. "We would move  _above_ -ground, and take what'th rightfully our'th! Take all of the Th'un-People prith'oner! And take them all underground, where  _we_  were exiled! Let them th'ee how it feel'th! Show them the pain and th'uffering we went through!"

He paused in his speech, panting slightly. Drool was trickling out of the corners of his mouth, and his hair was frazzled. "But what about my involvement?" Irene asked quietly, though she already had a good idea what he would say.

"It wa'th th'imple, my dear," he answered, raising a finger and an eyebrow. "We would dig a tunnel from our village and to the th'ellar of your cath'tle. On the th'ame day we would flood the mine'th, we would travel to your cath'tle, overtake them, and I would take you to the village. Becau'the after all, whoever married you would become the Th'un-King."

"Marriage," she nodded, grasping at her engagement ring. She often wondered what would have happened if Froglip had succeeded in kidnapping her and fulfilling the plan. But would it have continued the way it did if he had not only successfully taken her, but if the flood had still taken the castle? And what would have happened to the people she cared about? Obviously she wouldn't have been allowed to see them again, and they probably would have been tortured.

She found herself actually glad for the flood overtaking the castle, thus ruining Froglip's plans.

As if hearing her thoughts, he continued, "But th'omething went wrong! Either the tunnel'th were too cloth'e, and the wall between them collapth'ed; or the Thun-People in the mine'th were warned of u'th, and had done th'omething! But regardle'th, our other tunnel wa'th flooded, and our village a'th well! And you know the reth't." He glanced at his bandaged arm, pulling a disgusted face when he realized the bandages were dirty and wet.

"I think it's time we calmed down and get that removed," Irene said, gently pushing the goblin down so he would sit. She pulled her knife out and carefully sliced the bandage. She unwound it, balled it up, and tossed it to the ground. It was dirty and wet, and had served its purpose by now. And it wouldn't do to have it sitting in her bag, useless and disgusting.

The bite in his arm had healed significantly after only a few days, though she decided it was because goblins healed faster than human. There were still several scabs, but the tiny little scrapes that were healed became a very light-green colored-scar. Compared to the color of his skin, it looked almost white. "I have no scissors, so I'll have to use the knife to remove the stitches," she said, running a finger over the tiny little threads. "I'll try to be gentle-"

"-Just talk while you do it," he interrupted, having calmed down from his earlier rant. "Tell me... how you came to know about us?"

"That is an interesting story, actually," she chuckled as she carefully used the tip of the knife to cut one of his stitches. Once it was cut, she pulled it out. A tiny droplet of blood came out, but not much. "It was several days before you invaded the castle. I was out playing with Turnip in the woods, avoiding my nurse, Lootie. Once she had fallen asleep, we were free to play and explore all we want. We were trying to find a caterpillar in a dirt mound, but then something popped out! It was a hand; I realize now it was a goblin hand. It tried to grab and take Turnip down with it, but I managed to pull him out and run away. Many other mounds popped out of the ground, and I had to run further into the woods."

"You were in hunting grounds," Froglip explained, flinching at a particularly-tough stitch being pulled out. "Goblins listen as animals walk about above-ground, and then they reach through the mounds to pull them into the tunnels."

She shuddered at the thought that her beloved kitten could have easily been goblin food had she not moved quick enough. "Well, regardless, I had gotten us lost while trying to get away from those mounds. It was dark, foggy, and eerie. And there were creatures roaming about. Curdie later told me they were goblin pets."

"Yes, we have pets," he nodded. "They like to wander out of the tunnels, whether to explore or search for food. You had most likely wandered into goblin territory."

"That would explain why they began chasing us. I was so frightened, and Turnip was so brave, trying to defend me. After a few minutes, I realized all of the creatures were gone, and there was instead a boy."

"The Sun-Boy?"

"Yes, Curdie," she nodded. "He's a man now, you know."

"I'll never see him as anything but the scrawny little boy who foiled our plans," he shook his head stubbornly.

She sighed heavily as she pulled the jar of poultice from her bag. Since it was sealed, it hadn't been ruined by the river. She uncapped it, and spread some of it on Froglip's arm. "Anyway, he told me about goblins, their pets, and how you hated music. He took us back home as well. It was also there that he learned I was the princess. He seemed affronted that I hadn't told him, when he didn't even ask."

"So this was the first time you had heard of goblins?" Froglip asked, astonished. "How did your father not tell you?"

"He didn't know either," Irene shrugged.

"How?! Were we really that forgotten about?!" He sounded offended now.

"The miners knew plenty about you. Perhaps you were too unbelievable to royalty, or we weren't told about you for a reason. To protect us."

"Father told me something very profound, even for him: if you don't know about something, it will be twice as dangerous to you."

"That  _is_  very wise," she nodded as she took out a roll of bandage. Her own had been ruined in the water, so the Mountain Man gave her a couple of rolls of his. She wrapped Froglip's arm again and tied it off. "You really wanted to marry me to aid the goblins?"

"If I were to become king of the Sun-People, I would be able to not only take care of my people above-ground better, but I would rule over the Sun-People. They wouldn't even  _think_  to do anything harmful to goblins!"

"Father told me that no matter how powerful a king may be, he will always have enemies. And his enemies will always eventually rise against him."

"If that were to happen, I would put them in their place!"

"Even if you were king, there would always be people who know a goblin's weaknesses, share them among others, and use them to their advantage."

He simply grumbled as he looked at his new bandage. His ear twitched at a question from Irene. "What?"

"I said do you still want to take over the Sun-People? Do you still want to marry me to become king of the Sun-People, and take revenge for goblins?"

His ears tilted, and he glanced to the side. His expression was unreadable and confusing. "We should probably get going," he said in an uncharacteristically-quiet voice, pushing himself to his feet. He began walking in the direction they had been walking; confused, she simply followed behind.


	33. Chapter 32 -- Childish Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Irene had always enjoyed it when autumn arrived. While she loved the warm sunshine of summer, the heat often got a little too unbearable, making her wish she could go swimming with barely anything on, if not anything at all. But when she once voiced this wish to Lootie, she got a harsh scolding for even thinking of doing such a "unladylike thing". And she had a feeling Froglip wouldn't think much if she mentioned this fantasy, especially given his apprehension around water. Not to mention it was far too cold to go swimming at the moment, even with all of her clothes on.

But regardless, she still loved watching the falling leaves, all in various shades of red, orange, and yellow, as they floated down into piles beneath the bare trees. The weather was cool; not enough that she would need a coat, but enough that she didn't need to roll up her sleeves or fan herself off. The air smelled crisp and almost indescribable. The only way she would be able to describe it was simply autumn. It was like her own little paradise. She wished she could conserve it in a little bottle of perfume so she could smell it even in the spring, summer, or winter.

When she expressed her love for the season, Froglip simply shrugged. "It's already chilly down in the tunnels, so the outside doesn't mean much to me," he drawled.

"What about warmer weather?"

He simply shrugged, "Eh, I don't really care."

"Did you ever play in the leaves or mud?"

"When I was five years old," he scoffed, nudging a pile of leaves aside with his foot. "I stopped because playing outside is what children do. And it is unbecoming of a prince to act childish and play childish games." The irony of that statement wasn't lost on him. He knew how he acted when he was a teenager, but didn't like to bring it up. He didn't like being proved wrong, and thinking back to that time was a little bit embarrassing. He wouldn't admit it, but regardless.

" _I_  still love playing outside," she countered. "And when he wasn't too busy, Father would accompany me. We would sometimes go riding our horses, or play in the meadow. If Curdie was free, he would even join us as well."

The goblin snorted something under his breath, but she ignored him. "So, you haven't played outside for how many years?"

"I'm twenty-six years old, you do the math. I had, and have better things to do than play in the mud and-!" He was interrupted when a large clod of mud flew into the back of his head. He could feel the cold, wet mud fall down the back of his neck, and stick in his hair and on his ears. A shudder ran up his spine, and he could hear giggling behind him. He slowly looked over his shoulder at the offending giggler with a glare.

She simply shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back, and smiled innocently. His glare turned to a smirk and quirked eyebrow. He crouched down and gathered a large ball of mud, keeping eye contact with her.

She squealed as her eyes widened with realization, and she ran away to hide behind a large tree. Keeping her back against the trunk, she could hear him sneaking up, leaves crunching under his feet. She knew that if he wanted to, he could be stealthier and really catch her off-guard. But she realized, perhaps without him realizing it himself, that he was playing along. Even after claiming he didn't play childish games.

Crouching briefly, she grabbed a small handful of mud, took a deep breath, and jumped out from behind the tree. Froglip was right in front of her, holding his ball of mud above his head. He looked startled to see her leap out so suddenly. She quickly smashed the mud into his chest; this surprised him further, causing him to accidentally drop the mud onto his head. Grunting, he wiped the mud away from his face and scrubbed at it his eyes. His ears flicked quickly and hard, trying to fling the mud off of them.

Deciding to be bold and daring, Irene quickly kissed him on the cheek and ran away, laughing. He froze in place, but shook the mud off of his head and ran after her. He still looked irritated, but a third party could also see the corners of his mouth trying not to lift. And the look in his eye wasn't of anger, but something different.

She glanced back over her shoulder, continuing to giggle when she saw the goblin chasing after her. At least he didn't look legitimately mad, otherwise she would begin to get scared. But she didn't look back ahead quick enough as she tripped over a log hidden under leaves. She fell onto her front among several piles of leaves, but quickly rolled onto her back.

Before she could get up, he threw a couple of handfuls of mud at her. One of them splattered on her chest, and the other hit one of her shoulders. She cried out as the cold, wet dirt hit her, and she could feel her shirt soak up the water, leaving her shoulder and chest damp and cold. She sat up and glared at him as he laughed, throwing his head back. She grabbed fistfuls of leaves and threw them at him. Some of them managed to hit him, but the others simply fluttered to the ground. The leaves that had hit him stuck to the sticky mud on his face, hair, and chest.

Upon feeling the leaves brush against him, he stopped laughing, and raised an eyebrow at her again. Before she could get to her feet or say anything, he began shoving the nearby piles of leaves onto her. "No, stop it!" she squealed, trying to dig out as he continued to bury her. She spat out the leaves and dirt, and tried to keep her eyes scrunched close. "I give! Truce!"

Chuckling, he crouched down by the pile and waited as she got her upper half uncovered and sat up again. Leaves were sticking to the mud on her chest and shoulder, others were stuck in her hair, and one large, orange one managed to get caught in her necklace. She plucked the leaf out of her necklace and slapped it onto his cape pin. "And here I thought playing games in the mud and leaves was childish," she remarked with a smile, brushing the leaves and mud off of her.

"You started it," he reminded her, standing up and cleaning himself off as well.

"And I  _finished_  it," she countered proudly, standing up and brushing the debris off of her back.

"Then we're both childish, hm?"

"I suppose. But no one said there was anything wrong with it. After all, my father still played with me even though he was an adult. And he definitely wasn't a childish man."

After a few minutes, they had both marginally succeeded in getting the mud and leaves off of their persons. They still had mud staining their clothes, and the leaf was still on Froglip's cape pin, but neither of them seemed to notice these things. As they started walking again, he asked, "By the way... why did you kiss me?"

Irene had hoped he didn't notice that, but she was evidently wrong. "I don't know," she answered shortly with a shrug, already feeling the apples of her cheeks getting warmer.

Seeing he wasn't going to get a better answer out of her, he left it alone. Instead, his mind drifted back to when she had actually kissed him. When he was younger, he initially thought of all Sun-People to be disgustingly soft, and was not looking forward to marrying Irene even for the benefit of all goblins. He knew marrying her would mean he would have to kiss her, and eventually attempt to create heirs. And he was not anticipating any of that at all. His parents had even talked of covering her up so he wouldn't have to even look at her.

Now, he still didn't think much of Sun-People at all. After all, some things don't change easily, if ever. But even he could grudgingly admit that Irene was slowly turning his mind around. He remembered the feel of her hands on his face and in his own hand, and though they were indeed softer than goblin skin, they didn't feel too different otherwise. And her lips against his cheek were also soft, yet they strangely didn't feel uncomfortable. In fact, it reminded him of the female goblins his age that he used to know.

He shook his head quickly.  _What the hell are you thinking? She's a Sun-Woman! Your enemy! You hate her, and she hates you!_

If that was the case, why was he having a hard time convincing himself?


	34. Chapter 33 -- A Goblin's Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

"Froglip, I've been wondering something, and have been meaning to ask you-"

"-well, spit it out then. You've been stewing on it for so long, might as well get it out."

"How do you know Dirtclaw?"

Froglip froze at the question. But unlike when Irene had asked him why he and his kind lived in the mountains, his answer was short and quick, as if he was angry, "Why do you need to know?"

"Because I want to know about hi-"

"-Why?!"

"We're both going to confront him, I think I deserve to know about him. And you're the only one who knows-"

"-I wasn't the only one who knew him!"

"Do you see any other goblins with us? No!" she snapped.

"Well, I don't feel like talking to him!" he growled, crossing his arms.

"I don't care! I know very little about him, other than the fact that he's a great big winged beast, and that you seem to know about him! You're the only one with information on him, and I think I deserve to know about him too!"

"You're pushing it," he warned, pointing a finger at him.

She pushed his hand away without any sense of fear. All she felt was irritation and anger. "Froglip, all I'm asking is why you know him! That can't be too difficult of a question to answer! And I want answers! Right now!"

Snarling, he finally shouted, "Fine! You want anth'wer'th?! Fine! He wa'th my pet!"

Her eyes widened and her face paled. "What?"

"Ye'th! My pet,  _and_  my beth't friend! What, you think I didn't have friend'th? Well, think again! I've had him for th'o long, I couldn't imagine life without him! Mother th'aid I begged,  _begged_  for her to let me keep him! He wa'th treated like royalty! And you know how he repaid u'th?!" He was shaking, his fists were clenched, and to her surprise, tears were welling in his eyes. "That no good, double-cro'thing, betraying, th'tupid th'on of a bitch!"

"Froglip, you need to calm down!"

"Don't tell me to-!" He was interrupted when she grabbed his face and held him so they were inches apart. All he could see were her round teal eyes.

"Listen to me," she said calmly, yet sternly, "you need to take a deep breath, and relax. When you're speaking fast and angrily, I can barely understand you past your lisp. And it won't do good to work yourself up into such a frenzy." She slowly and deeply inhaled, and let it out just as slowly.

Though he was still glaring, he copied her deep breaths in and out. And after a few seconds, he felt himself actually calming down, and even thinking more clearly. But that also meant painful memories were resurfacing; ones that he had tried to bury deep within the recesses of his mind.

Finally, she removed her hands and moved back a step. He actually found himself a little disappointed when she let his face go, but he shook it off. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "... Do you want to know the full story?" he asked slowly, minding his lisp.

"If you're comfortable with it, and if it will help me learn more about Dirtclaw, yes."

"I'm not comfortable with it, not at all, but... y-you're right. We're in this together, and you deserve to know about him." He took another deep breath, and continued, "Before I was born, there were more winged wolves. Not a huge pack, but a good-sized one. They lived on the other side of the mountains, so I wouldn't expect any of the Sun-People knew about them—at least, the ones that live in your castle and work in the mines. But anyway, they didn't get along with us goblins. There were fights over food, they attacked when we wandered in their territory during hunts, and sometimes when prey was scarce they would hunt  _us_. So, one day, when I was very young, my father led an attack on the wolves."

"How? They have wings, so wouldn't they have the advantage?"

"We may not show it often, Irene, but us goblins are smart. They used bows and arrows to pierce their wing membranes and rock launchers to break their wings so they  _couldn't_  fly. And some brave, albeit stupid goblins even leaped onto wolves' backs and sliced their wings with knives. It wasn't without casualties, but we won and killed every last winged wolf..."

"... except for one," she finished.

"Except for one," he nodded. "I had ran out once the battle was over because I was bored, evading my guards. I found a tiny little winged wolf pup wandering around, whimpering, and decided I wanted him. Mother said I grabbed him right up like he was a doll and begged her to let me keep him. And eventually, she let me. Because of his earth-colored claws, and because I'm so clever with names..."

"... you called him Dirtclaw."

"Indeed. We grew up together. When I was a few years older—maybe nine, or ten—me and the other young goblins were told about the Winged Wolf and Goblin War. After that... Dirtclaw ran away. What I didn't realize at the time was that he had realized that we killed his family." He looked forlorn and ashamed now, something Irene never thought she would ever see on him.

"You didn't lead the attack," she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, but I still cheered for our victory. I didn't realize how much it hurt Dirtclaw... and I didn't realize that it was only the beginning. When he returned, he was a mess. He was covered in lacerations that were still healing, but that was the least of the changes. He was far more antisocial and irritated, but I ignored it. Things only went from bad to worse."

"How so?"

"When I was born, I had been betrothed to another goblin. She was actually from a clan that had joined us, and was the daughter of the leader."

"Betrothed?" she muttered. To her surprise, she felt jealous.  _Why would I feel this way? It's obvious that his betrothal fell through, and_ _I'm_ _betrothed. Why am I jealous of this female goblin?_

"Yes, I was," he nodded, not seeming to notice her change of attitude. "I had learned about it some time after Dirtclaw returned. But obviously, it didn't go through."

"What happened?"

"We were walking through the tunnels, she and I, and I heard Dirtclaw calling for me. I left her to go see what he wanted... and there was a rock-slide behind me. She had been caught in it and... didn't survive."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, inching closer to him; they had sat down by now. She laid her hand on his arm again and squeezed comfortingly. He didn't brush her off, or even look strangely down at her hand. He was either too engrossed with telling his story, or he didn't mind the comfort. Some time ago, she would have bet on the former being the case. Now, she was admittedly not sure what to make of it.

"Later on, I was betrothed again. This time, to one of our own goblins. No one from the new clan wanted to betroth their daughter to me, lest they end up dying as well. This time, she was found at the bottom of a crevice. At the time, no one knew if she had jumped or was pushed off. For some time, I thought I was cursed... but obviously, I wasn't. It wasn't a curse that was causing it; it was murder. One night, I was sleeping, and was awoken. Dirtclaw was standing over me, glaring down at me. I asked him what his problem was, but he didn't answer. He slowly grinned, drool dripping from his fangs, and his eyes were glowing. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of him."

"What did he do?"

"He was about to grab my throat in his jaws, but a few guards burst in and pulled him off of me. I swear his teeth were this close," he held his finger and thumb apart like he was holding a tiny little pebble. "I could almost feel his hot breath on my neck. He was imprisoned, brought before the high council, and questioned."

"And?"

"He confessed everything. He had killed the two female goblins, and was obviously intending on killing me. All because of what we had done to his family. He had been planning this for the past few years."

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"It was my decision, as I was the main target. But I... I couldn't bare to, to see him killed." He sniffed and rubbed his eye with the heel of one of his hands. "So, it was decided he would be exiled. He had large Xs carved into his shoulders so we would know he wasn't to be trusted. It was what happened to any goblin that was exiled, but we made a much-needed exception for him"

"That's why you asked Glump if he had those scars," she breathed.

"And this is why he killed my parents," the goblin sighed. "He didn't want to kill the whole clan, only the leaders. The ones who instigated the entire attack. Perhaps he would later pick off the goblins if he became bored? I don't know. But I'm willing to wager that the only reason he killed your father was because he got in the way. He doesn't do things randomly, he had to have had a reason to kill him. He had no quarrel with Sun-People, at least as far as I know." He chuckled darkly, "I'm starting to realize that I actually don't know a lot about him, if anything at all anymore."

"If he's doing all of this for revenge against his family's murder... does that mean we're no different than him?"

To her shock, Froglip answered, "No, we're nearly the same. We all have had family murdered, and are trying to kill the murderer. But the only difference is Dirtclaw has killed for more than revenge."

"How do you know?"

"Word travels. He's killed other goblins, and I even heard he's killed Sun-People. My theory is he got a taste for blood, probably when he had disappeared and returned with his scars. And he won't stop killing after he's gotten his revenge. As I said, I can guarantee that he wouldn't have left my people alone for long. But we're only killing  _him_ , no one else."

Irene felt hollow inside. She had gotten what she wanted, but it didn't make her feel any better. Not to mention the notion that she was no better than the wolf, even despite Froglip's assurance that they were marginally better. It made her feel so horrible for her companion "I'm... I'm so sorry, Froglip," she whispered.

"It doesn't matter," he brushed it off. "What's done is done, and we can't go back. Telling you this doesn't change my mind; in fact, it makes me want to see him dead even more."

Even if he said it didn't matter, she could tell he was still hurt. And she understood. If Curdie had suddenly changed his character and had hurt her in the same way Dirtclaw hurt Froglip, she would have been crushed. Perhaps even become as cynical as Froglip himself... or perhaps not. She didn't know how she would have changed if something like that happened, but she couldn't imagine becoming entirely different. Only more cautious and less willing to trust initially.

* * *

Evening had fallen by the time they had finally managed to leave the forest. It felt so good to be out in the open air and see more than trees. It was too dark to see anything in front of them though, and the moon wasn't out that night. They would have to wait until morning to see if Skewer Summit was visible.

They had found a large tree that had fallen onto a boulder, creating a shelter of some sorts. Lichen grew on the sides of the tree and hung down like curtains. They had found the shelter in time for it to start raining. Thunder soon came after, though it didn't seem to be storming as hard as it had the few nights prior.

They both ate dinner and quickly fell asleep to the pounding rain and rumbling thunder. But after what felt like seconds, though t could have been minutes or hours, Irene was woken up. At first, she wondered if it was a loud clap of thunder. But she realized she could feel movement right beside her, as well groaning and whimpering. Something hit her in the leg, making her nearly jump out of her skin.

Looking to the side, she saw Froglip curled tightly in a fetal position, wriggling madly in place and kicking his legs out every now and then. His teeth and eyes were clenched, and he sounded like he was terrified. "Froglip!" she whispered, but he didn't wake up. "Froglip!" She laid a hand on his shoulder, but he still stayed asleep. "Froglip, wake up!" she finally shouted, grabbing him with both hands and shaking him harshly.

He stiffened up and gasped harshly, eyes popping open. "Froglip, relax! I'm here!" she said soothingly, removing her hands to let him get up on his own.

He rolled onto his back, panting heavily. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and he still looked startled. She wondered if that was what she looked like after waking from a nightmare. "You were... were you having a nightmare?"

"Why is it any of  _your_  business?!" he snapped, sitting up and brushing the dirt off of the side of his face. But he didn't sound angry; he came across more as embarrassed.

She frowned at him briefly before whispering, "For the past ten years, I've had nearly the same nightmare at least twice, maybe thrice a week. Almost always the same: the morning we 'officially' met. You would chase me around my room, I would bargain with you for Curdie's life, and we went down to the cellar, only to get washed away by the flood. I always wake up just as the water overtakes us."

His ears tilted, and his expression looked as though he was deep in thought. "Was  _I_  in your nightmare?" she grinned.

"No, of course not!" he chuckled nervously, brushing his hair back. He was silent for a few seconds before eventually continuing, "I was standing on the rock at the edge of the waterfall, the one you, the Sun-Boy and I were on. It was far more dark and foggy though. I couldn't see who, but someone kicked me in the chest, causing me to fall down the waterfall. It felt like a much longer fall than it originally was, but I eventually fell into the water. I sank deep into what felt like the ocean, but this time, no one was there to pull me out. I sunk deeper... and deeper..." He shuddered at the memory. "Before I blacked out though, the water seemed to almost... melt away. I found myself on my back... with Dirtclaw standing over me. It was like when I was younger; he was ready to kill me. And this time, when he grabbed my neck... nobody came."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shifting to the side so she was right next to him. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back. He froze at the sudden contact, but didn't push her away. In all honesty, it did make him feel a little better. After a few minutes, she was leaning against him and breathing softly in her sleep. He thought about pushing her away, but in the end he moved her so he was able to lean more comfortable back against the rock. She was sitting in front of him between his legs, and leaning against his chest. The warm weight against him felt quite strange, as he wasn't used to physical contact after ten years of living alone. Not to mention he never got this close to a Sun-Person, much less willingly. But in all honesty... it didn't feel too bad. It made him feel like he wasn't alone.

_Good god, how starved for attention and touch have I become in the past ten years?_

Looking down at her briefly, he let his head fall back against the rock with a sigh. He had lied; Irene was indeed in his nightmare. After the water went away, but before Dirtclaw stood over him, he saw the winged wolf standing over a pale body that was dressed in pink, and had orange hair. When he spotted Froglip, there was blood dripping from his jaws and running down to his chest. And when he began stalking towards him, the goblin saw that the body he was standing over was Irene, and that her throat had been torn out. He tried to call out for her, but it was as if he had suddenly gone mute. And no matter how hard he tried to get up, it was like he was paralyzed.

He shook the memory away, feeling his chest clench painfully.  _It was just a nightmare, she's right here, and Dirtclaw is nowhere around here. You're both safe... why am I so worried about her? Why do I care about her so much? Why do I enjoy her company so much? What is wrong with me?_  He grasped her shoulders, ready to push her off of him. But when he saw her peacefully-sleeping face, with a soft smile on her lips, he found himself unable to remove her. Instead he let his hands fall, and closed his eyes to try and fall back asleep. It didn't come as quickly as before, but he was able to drift off again.

Hopefully he wouldn't have any more nightmares before having to face the real deal.


	35. Chapter 34 -- A Wolf's Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

That same stormy night, not too far away, the wolves were fast asleep in Skewer Summit.

All save for one.

Dirtclaw was relaxing in the deepest cave of the mountain. He was on a short platform that nearly encompassed the entire room. Large crystals stood on either side, glowing softly in the dark. It was bright enough to illuminate the room, but not enough that it made it unbearable to sleep in.

There were two stone statues, similar-looking to the ones outside the mountain, flanking the entrance to the cave. They two had white crystals for eyes, open-mouthed snarls, and sharp claws on their hands and feet. One difference, however, was that they each held one hand as if they were holding spears. One statue's hand was empty, and the other held a broken spear in its claws. If the wolf turned his head just right, he could see the statues through the doorway.

He rolled onto his back and stretched his legs the air. He then shifted back onto his paws and stretched his wings out, yawning. The room was big enough that he couldn't feel the walls even with the tips of his large wings. He flopped onto his front, stretching his legs in front of and behind him, and laid his head on the stone beneath him. After a few minutes, he folded one front paw over the other and laid his chin on both paws. But he still could not get to sleep.

Perhaps it was because he was becoming antsy about his inevitable battle with Froglip. He knew he wasn't entirely stupid; he would bring a weapon, and he would be out for blood. It would be a difficult fight.

But Dirtclaw had more advantages. He could fly, he knew a goblin's weaknesses, and he could use his teeth. He already did before, even if it did merely leave a wound that would become a scar. But with goblins having tough skin, it was only a testament to how strong he was. All he had to do was trap him in the unfamiliar tunnels and caves of Skewer Summit, have the wolves guard all exits in case he tried to escape, and tire him out.

Then, his vengeance would be finally fulfilled.

Against his will, memories began to flood Dirtclaw's mind:

* * *

_He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It didn't occur to him that he could go faster with his wings, but he wasn't thinking straight at the moment. Tears flooded his eyes, and he could feel his heart breaking._

_His family, the ones that raised him, had murdered his real family. Back before he could even speak. And they told stories about it, glorifying it. And they laughed!_

_And Froglip, the one he thought loved him like a brother, cheered for the goblins! Didn't he realize that this was Dirtclaw's true family? Ones that he would never see again, and had learned about through a war story?_

_Or did he not care?_

_It seemed like hours before Dirtclaw collapsed with exhaustion. His legs felt like stone, and he couldn't get up even if he tried. So, he simply lay in the grass and cried. He cried out his grief, frustration, and anger; for the family he never knew, and for the ones that had ruined his life._

_Did they even care where he was? He thought he heard Froglip calling out for him, asking where he was going._

_Where was he, now that he was thinking about it? He lifted his head, blinked the tears away, and looked around. Nothing looked familiar, and when he looked over his shoulder, he couldn't see the tunnel entrance or even the mountains._

_He was completely and utterly lost._

_Suddenly, there was a growl, though it didn't sound like one he had ever heard before. It was high-pitched and gestural, and it made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, merely succeeding in making himself sit, and looked towards the source of the growl. He saw a large animal—though it was smaller than himself. It was wide and flat, and a silver-gray in color, with a white head and black stripes._

_**Badger!**  he suddenly realized. He only recognized it because Dolomite wore a badger-skin cloak. But everyone knew that badgers were very dangerous; notorious for attacking nearly every animal that made them angry, and rarely losing._

_He tried to stand up to get away, but he was still very wobbly on his feet. He wasn't in the right state-of-mind to fight a badger, and he knew that it was fixing to fight him. When he sniffed the air, it smelled entirely of badger, and he realized that he had ran right into its territory._

_But by the time he successfully got up, the animal attacked. It leaped at his face with a loud battle cry. He fell back, not anticipating the sudden attack. It scratched at his face with its long claws. He could feel the skin ripping painfully, and the blood spill out. It bit at him with sharp teeth. He kicked it back with his hind feet and tried to run. It jumped onto his back and grabbed the back of his neck in its jaws. He rolled onto his back and tried to crush it beneath him. It pulled itself out from under him and grabbed his wing. He yelped and bit at the animal as hard as he could. The skin was too tough to bite through, but he managed to throw it to the side. He planted his paws into the earth and growled loudly at his opponent._

_The badger growled back and stamped its feet. He pounced on the badger and grabbed a mouthful of its fur. He shook it as hard as he could. He pinned its body to the ground with his paws and pulled as hard as he could. It grabbed at his face with its claws, slashing him again. He yelped in pain, letting the animal go. It charged at his throat and tried to bite him. But though he could barely feel the tips on his skin, the fur around his neck was thick enough to save his life._

* * *

_The next thing Dirtclaw knew, he was waking up in a daze. He felt bruised and tired. There were white bandages, spotted with red, wrapped around his chest, wing, and front legs. When he tried to open his eyes, his right eye wouldn't open. Suddenly feeling scared, he pawed at his face. He felt bandages wrapped around his head, keeping his eye shut._

_His ears twitched when he heard a soothing voice. Turning, he saw the blurry form of... something. It was pale with long, black fur on its head, and had patches of orange and brown on the rest of its body. "Shhh, you'll be all right," he heard it say. Something flat and with long appendages laid itself on his head. He flinched back and blinked his eye. Finally, his vision cleared enough to where he could see what was in front of him._

_It was a Sun-Woman._

_With a frightened growl, he bit out at her. She jumped back with a cry. "No, I'm trying to help you!" she exclaimed._

_Ignoring her, he struggled to his feet to try and run away. "You're wounded, you can't leave!" she protested, grabbing at his shoulders._

_He turned sharply and pushed her to the ground with his paws. Screaming, the Sun-Woman grabbed something and slashed at him. He yelped when he felt a sharp pain down across his left eye. He grabbed blindly with his jaws and felt soft flesh and meat in his mouth. He bit down on it, and felt a gush of blood on his tongue. He could hear the scream and feel the vibrations through his teeth. He bit down harder. He felt more struggling underneath him. He pushed down with his paws and kept held with his jaws._

_Finally, his prey was still. He could feel the heat leaving their body._

_He let go and backed away a step, pawing at his face. He finally got a hold of the bandages with his claws and pulled them off. They smelled like the Sun-Woman and blood, and had little pieces of black fur stuck to it. He grabbed his other bandages with his teeth and pulled them off. They all looked and smelled similar, though they didn't have as much blood as his facial bandages had._

_Looking ahead, his eyes widened when he saw the dead Sun-Woman in front of him. Her throat had been torn open, she had little red marks on her face and chest, her eyes were open and glazed over, and her mouth was open in a scream. Clutched in her hand was a knife with blood on it._

_He blinked when he realized blood was dripping down the left side of his face. He lapped at it, and ran out of the Sun-Woman's house that he realized was in. He ran until he reached a pond. He skidded to a stop and padded up to it, looking at the reflection to see his face._

_He had three long, red slashes across the right side of his face. They ran from the right side of his face next to his eye down and across his snout before his nose. They looked swollen, and were barely bleeding. There was a fresh, bleeding slash straight down across his left eye._

_There were various bites and scratches across the rest of his body, but the worst ones were the ones on his face. He knew, without a doubt, they would scar._

_He continued to stare at his reflection, blinking when he saw a drop of blood fall into the water. But it wasn't from his face. His jaws were still covered in the red, warm blood of the Sun-Woman. It continued to drip into the water, and he saw it run down the fur on his throat. He licked at his jaws until they were clean, and sat down._

_There was still the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. He had tasted the blood of various prey in the past, but it all paled in comparison to the taste of this blood. He wanted more. He craved more. He swallowed repeatedly until the taste faded away. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the Sun-Woman's house wasn't too far away. As if in a trance, he stood to his feet and walked back into the house._

* * *

_It was several weeks before he returned to the goblin village. During that time, his wounds had healed, and he was right in that his facial wounds would scar. The three slashes were rough, but the one across his eye was straight and clean._

_Ever since he had tasted the blood of the Sun-Woman that had helped him, he wanted more. He didn't care that he had killed his savior; she was a Sun-Woman, who cared about them? All he cared about was quenching his thirst for blood. He had hunted several Sun-People over the weeks that he was gone from the goblin village. He found a few Sun-Men, a couple of Sun-Women, and even a Sun-Child._

_But his thirst wasn't quenched. Instead, it seemed like the more Sun-People he hunted, the more he craved blood. As he returned home, his thoughts wandered to what goblin blood might taste like._

_At first, he was horrified at this thought. Goblins were his family! How could he even think of killing them, much less tasting their blood?! He almost felt sick at the thought._

_**But,**  his thoughts turned,  **they did kill my true family. And they kept this secret from me.**_

_He eventually decided that he would see what their reactions to him coming home would be. Would they realize their mistake and apologize for killing his family? It wouldn't bring them back, but it would prove that the goblins cared for him._

_But that didn't happen at all. They welcomed him back, oohed and ahhed over his scars, and asked where he had been. Nothing about his family's death. Even Froglip simply welcomed him with a pat on the back and compliments to his scars. He didn't say anything about the story they listened to before he ran away, or even asked why he had run away._

_On the outside, Dirtclaw was cool, calm, and collected. They had remarked that he changed, but he simply said he had some things enlightened to him, and that he knew the world a lot better. And the only reason he would want to be alone was to think further on the world and his place in it._

_But on the inside, he was seething with rage._

_It was a few more days before he finished formulating his grand plan for revenge. During that time, he learned that before he was adopted into the kingdom, a different goblin clan had joined the kingdom, and that Froglip had been betrothed to the leader's daughter before they even knew how to walk or talk. She was a tall, thin goblin with orange skin and yellow hair, and looked strong and mean. And when they were married, Froglip would take over the throne._

_**Well, that complicates things a little,**  Dirtclaw had remarked to himself.  **I suppose I will have to simply... get her out of the way.**_

_He waited patiently, for days, until the two goblins ventured in a certain part of the tunnels; a part where he knew the walls were weak, and with enough shoving would cause a rock-slide. He called Froglip away, ducked into a branching tunnel that led back to the other goblin, and shoved his body repeatedly against the thin wall. His perseverance was rewarded, and the tunnel collapsed, crushing the female goblin beneath its weight._

_He played the part of a sympathetic friend, but whenever Froglip wasn't looking, he let a satisfied grin spread across his muzzle. He hadn't been able to taste the goblin's blood, but that desire was put in the back of his mind. He had more important plans to fulfill for now._

_Some time later, however, Froglip was betrothed yet again. This time, it was to one of their own original goblins, as the newer group wasn't too keen on trying to betroth one of their own daughters. This time, he lured the female goblin to the edge of a sinkhole and pushed her down into it. She had hit her head on a sharp rock and was bleeding. So this time, he indulged himself in her taste. It was nothing similar to Sun-Person blood, but it didn't mean he disliked it. In fact, it helped urge his need for vengeance further._

_After this, Suevite and Dolomite forwent betrothing Froglip to anyone. He was convinced that he was cursed, and in a rare act of kindness decided it would be better to rule alone than to allow more female goblins to be killed._

_This sat well with Dirtclaw._

_One night, he stole into the goblin's room and stood over his bed. Some small part of him urged him to not do it. That there was another way to exact revenge. To even walk away and never return._

_But he parted his lips and growled down at the goblin he once considered a best friend; a brother even. Froglip woke up and asked what Dirtclaw was doing, but he got no response. He opened his mouth and lunged down to bite into his throat, just as he had done to the Sun-Woman months prior._

_But before he could even taste his flesh, he was grabbed and pulled back by several goblin guards. He growled and thrashed, but they tied him up, threw him into a cave, and shoved a boulder into the entrance. He growled angrily at them, and at himself. He had been too foolish and rash to even consider the guards waking up and finding him. **I suppose I will have to be more careful next time,**  he had thought to himself._

_It was several hours before he was brought out and before the king, queen, and prince. When asked what he was doing, he confessed everything. "You lot killed my family! Don't think I was listening dumbly to that story all those months ago! You killed them, and took me in as a trophy! Why, I'm willing to bet you would have shown me off if any other winged wolves had lived." He told them that he was the one that killed the two female goblins, and even said that his plan after was to murder Suevite and Dolomite after Froglip._

_In the end, it was Froglip's decision on what to do with Dirtclaw: would he be executed for high treason and attempted murder, or exiled for life? He smirked when the goblin called for his exile, and even let a few chuckles escape his mouth. **The spoiled, sniveling coward couldn't even stomach having me killed. How pathetic.**_

_A knife was used to slash two large Xs into his shoulders. He knew these were the marks of exiled goblins; any goblin with these scars was known to be an exiled one, and would either be chased away or killed if seen near the kingdom. This would make things even more tricky._

_But Dirtclaw was a patient and resourceful wolf. He stayed near the area, hidden away from the goblins. He heard their plan to flood the miners' mine, and for Froglip to marry the Sun-Princess and exact their own revenge against the Sun-People. He had seen the flood pour down from the castle, taking the goblins with them._

_And he waited. Ten long years, he waited, but it was not for nothing. During those ten years, he perfected his hunting techniques and ironed out any wrinkles in his plans. He found a large group of wolves, and integrated them into his plan. He found Skewer Summit, and realized it was the perfect place to stay while he exacted his plan. He and his newly-found pack chased the goblins from the mountain, albeit at the cost of half of the pack. **But,**  he had thought at the time, licking the blood from his lips after their takeover had been complete,  **sacrifices must be made.**_

* * *

Dirtclaw jumped as thunder echoed through the tunnels, startling him out of his old memories. He growled deeply in his throat. To anyone outside the room, it almost sounded like he was challenging the thunder.

He stood to his feet, spun around in several circles, and plopped down in a curled ball. "Only a few more days now. I can feel it," he muttered, licking at his injured paw. The wound had been healing nicely, but he knew it would scar. Oh well, another to add to his collection. It was his first from Froglip personally, but he knew it wouldn't be his last.

"Soon, my plan shall be fulfilled."


	36. Chapter 35 -- Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> Before the chapter starts, I'd like to thank StygianJackal from DeviantART for helping me figure out why goblins hate music and singing. I unfortunately can't find the status update of our conversation (DeviantART apparently decided it wasn't important to look back on old ones -_-) but I had a few notes on it jotted down.

The following morning, the mountain was revealed in the light of the day. It was just as it had been described in the past; huge and resembling a pile of of shards of glass. A small ledge could be seen, as well as a tiny black dot of an entrance. It looked intimidating, and it wasn't hard to believe that it contained something that was to be fought, whether it was a clan of goblins or a pack of wolves.

Irene and Froglip stared at it as they walked towards it. Though it wasn't growing in size very fast, they knew they were getting closer and closer to it, and thus their final goal; the shared objective that had started them on this long journey. "So... what will you do after this is finished?" he asked curiously.

"Return home, I suppose."

"Obviously, but what else?"

"Return home, get married, and rule my kingdom," she shrugged.

"Married?"

"Yes, I'm betrothed." She raised her right hand up as they paused in their walk.

He took her hand in both of his and looked closely at the ring on her third finger. It was made of silver and resembled two clasping hands. He remembered seeing it in the dungeon, but had paid no mind to it. "I didn't know you were betrothed," he said. His voice sounded strange, as though he was disappointed. It surprised even himself.

"It was a recent engagement," she explained in a small voice. He didn't let her hand go, but she didn't pull it away. "The night your parents were killed, it was when we were holding my betrothal ceremony. That was what you barged in on."

"What's he like, your betrothed?"

"Boastful and over-dramatic," she rolled her eyes. "The first day we met, he bragged about how he would protect me against goblins. But when you showed up, he screamed like a frightened little girl." She giggled at the memory. It was hypocritical, admittedly, since she had first reacted to goblins in a very similar fashion. But she was so used to grown men being so brave, it was amusing to see nonetheless.

"Well, good to know I'm still frightening to some Sun-People," Froglip remarked proudly, finally letting her hand go.

"I don't know if he was so much frightened of you as he was disgusted. But regardless, you  _did_  make quite the impression. And he was also so cruel to Curdie, calling him 'peasant', and disregarding that we were friends. He seemed so affronted that we  _were_  friends, in fact. He said once we were married, I wouldn't need to be friends with  _peasants_ ," she spat angrily.

Froglip remained quiet as she ranted. While he didn't like the Sun-Boy at all, he knew better than to tell Irene she shouldn't be friends with him. In fact, he wagered that had he forbid her to be friends with him, she would find a way to do so under his nose. And he at least had better reasoning to dislike him than him being lower in class than himself.

He was disliking this Sun-Man more and more as Irene told him about him. He sounded like a sorry excuse for a Sun-Person. And if she was betrothed to him, he must be royalty. When he asked, she explained he was the king of a neighboring country, his previous wife had died before giving birth to an heir, and their union would join the two kingdoms.

But it was more than him being a cowardly, controlling Sun-Person that seemed to irritate Froglip. In fact, he realized that he hated this Sun-Man simply for being betrothed to Irene. It almost seemed like he was jealous.  _Jealous? Why would you be jealous of a Sun-Man? And especially for being betrothed to her?_

"Do you think my people will be happy with my return?"

Silently thanking her for the change in subject, he answered, "That's... honestly hard for me to answer. On the one hand, they probably would be ecstatic to see you come home. You're their princess, after all."

"But?"

"But... but seeing as I'm a goblin, and you're a Sun-Person, not to mention our history, especially yours and mine, they might also be angry with you." At her confused and hurt expression, he elaborated, "Irene, you left in the middle of the night with me. Did you even leave a note saying what you were doing?"

"My handmaiden knows."

"And do you think they'll believe her? You told me that she was soft-spoken and frightened around you. And your betrothed is a stranger,  _and_  a king. Do you think she will stand to telling them what happened?"

"Are you suggesting she would lie or betray me?"

"Not at all. I'm saying they probably won't believe her, since she's not only a stranger to them, but a very shy one at that. Not to mention they didn't believe goblins were real."

"And they certainly didn't believe that Dirtclaw was real," she muttered under her breath. "They wouldn't even hear of it."

He nodded as she looked like she was putting the pieces together. "And that Sun-Boy friend of yours? Why, I would be surprised if they didn't kick him out the moment he breathed any words about us. Even  _if_  some of your guards are friendly with him."

"How are you so knowledgeable about this? And why are you even bothering to tell me? You could have very easily left me in the dark."

"Logic, I suppose," he shrugged. "And this should be something  _you're_  thinking about, since you're so close to becoming queen. And as to why... well..." He brushed his hair back and glanced off to the side. To her surprise, Irene could see his cheeks darkening. "I guess... I guess during this trip, you've become something of a... friend, I suppose?"

Friend. Hearing that he, a goblin who had previously hated Sun-People, taking any opportunity he could to vocalize so, considered a Sun-Woman a friend made her heart go in two directions. It mostly made her feel happy and warm, especially since she considered him a friend as well. And she was glad that her sentiments were returned. Despite their many ups and downs on the journey, she felt that they had both bonded strongly.

But on the other hand, it also made her feel a little sad.  _But why? Is it because... could it be possible I want... more than just friendship? No, that can't be it. It must be because I know this will end soon, and we may never see each other again._ "What will  _you_  do when you go home?" she asked him.

"I... I'm not really sure. Glump told me that I was able to go home, since my ten years were up. But... well, since I'll have killed Dirtclaw, they're liable to accept me. Especially if I bring the body."

"Or his skin," she suggested. "How much would it appeal to goblins for their prince to be wearing the skin of their enemy, using him as warmth, protection, intimidation, and a status?"

He was silent for a few seconds before grinning widely, "I knew there was a reason I liked you!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair.

"Froglip, no! Stop it!" she giggled, pushing him away and combing her hair down. Another thought came up, one that had been stuck in the back of her mind ever since first learning about goblins. "Why do you hate singing?"

"I'm gonna tell you a little secret," he whispered, laying an arm on her shoulders again. Instead of messing her hair though, he pulled her closer so he could whisper into her ear, as if there were others listening. "It's not that goblins hate singing, it hurts us."

"Hurts you?"

"When we hear singing, our ears hurt, and we feel... how do I describe it? It makes us feel like we need to get away from it."

"So, you're afraid of it?"

"Not necessarily, but I suppose that's  _one_  way to describe it. I wouldn't advice saying that around other goblins, though."

"Is music the same?"

"Pretty much the same. Maybe not really quite as much, actually. Though some goblins, including young and old ones, can be more affected. We don't make it a point to listen to Sun-People music for experimentation."

"What about dancing?"

"We can dance," he scoffed with a slight smile. "Just because we can't have music doesn't mean we can't dance. Mostly it's during celebrations though, and in comparison to Sun-People dancing, we just jump and twist around. Often around a fire or statue, or something like that. It's a lot of fun though, admittedly."

"Do couples dance though?"

"Aren't you just full of questions today? But what do you mean?"

"Sun-People couples dance together often. During weddings, for example, or balls." An idea popped up in her mind. Part of her was astonished that she would think about something like that, but the bigger part squashed that surprise down. Their journey was ending soon, and even though they still had the walk home, she wanted to enjoy herself for as long as she could. "Would you like me to teach you?"

"To Sun-People dance? I... I don't want you to step on my feet," he said warily, glancing down at their feet.

She immediately nudged her shoes off, wiggling her toes in the grass and mud. The rain from the previous night made the ground cool, and she sighed at the warm sunlight falling on her bare feet. "Would this be better?"

"I suppose," he shrugged. "All right, what do I have to do?"

"First, we bow," she said, spreading her arms slightly and curtsying. Cocking one ear up curiously, he bowed at the waist. "Put your right hand on my back under my arm, and hold my other hand."

He stepped closer to her and did as she said, albeit awkwardly. She placed her free hand on his upper arm. He could feel his heart race faster as she nudged his legs until he was standing straight in front of her. But he had a feeling it wasn't because she had perfect opportunity to crush one of his feet. "Watch my feet, and move the opposite of mine. For example, I step backwards with my left, you step forward with your right. And for now, follow my lead."

 _This sounds so complicated,_  he griped in his head. But regardless, he followed her steps, staring down at their feet, both to watch what he was doing and to make sure she didn't step on him. As they stepped, she began turning to the right slightly. They ended up slowly spinning while dancing in a large circle. She did accidentally step on his foot once or twice, but she always apologized profusely. He found himself being surprisingly patient with her. And her removing her shoes did lessen the pain, if not only slightly.

"Once in a while, you can raise my arm up and spin me around, and back around," she added.

Pausing, he lifted their hands up, allowing her to slowly spin and stand away from him, stretching their arms. She spun herself back around, placed her hand back on his arm, and they began dancing again. His hand ended up on her waist, but she either didn't mind or notice.

As they continued to dance, he found himself getting better and better, memorizing the steps and learning the rhythm. He finally looked up from their feet and at Irene. Her eyes were sparkling in the morning light, and she had a soft smile on her pink lips. He found the corners of his mouth threatening to lift as well. He remembered the pink dress she wore during her betrothal ceremony, and found himself imagining her still wearing it, rather than the Sun-Boy's clothing. He could imagine the skirt flowing around as they spun and sidestepped, the bodice fitting to her form like a glove. Before he realized it, he had stopped and was simply staring at her. He couldn't get that image out of his mind.

Irene cocked her head at Froglip's expression when he stopped. It was a peculiar one; he didn't look bored, irritated, or sad, but he didn't exactly look happy either. In trying to find a comparison, her father's face popped into her mind. More specifically, the one he had whenever he talked about her mother, or looked at any paintings of her. Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered what he looked like: in love.

When Froglip still didn't move, she took the hand that was on her waist in her own and began stepping to the side. She stepped to the left, and to the right. Glancing down at their feet in brief confusion, he mirrored her movements like how he had done when learning to dance. When she moved to the left, he moved to the right; she to the right, and him to the left. Their arms stretched and bent at each step. But still he was silent, and his expression barely changed. Her amused giggles that had risen when doing the silly, impromptu dance faded into a concerned expression.

She was about to say something when he pulled her hands up and let go, causing her to stumble forward and grab at his shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her back and cupped the back of her head, dipping her a little. She could feel her cheeks warming, but this time, she barely felt any embarrassment. Then he straightened up quickly, let her head go, and lifted her up by her waist onto his hip, slowly spinning. She let out a soft gasp and wrapped her arm around his neck. They kept eye contact, and he finally let a smile change his face.

He finally set her back onto her feet, took her hand again, and led them back into the dance. She grinned as he took full control and still kept eye contact with her, never once looking down at their toes. "Y-you learn very quickly," she remarked, suddenly feeling short of breath. She wondered if it was completely because of the dance and from the surprise of his boldness.

"I have a good teacher," he smirked, quirking an eyebrow as he spun her out and back in. Her hand moved closer to his neck this time.

She was about to answer when her foot stepped back and into a hollow. She cried out in surprise as she began to fall back. He bent on one knee and grabbed her tighter, quickly pulling her flush against his body. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm all right," she whispered, slowly letting his hand go. She slowly moved it closer to his face, which was several inches away from her own. When he didn't flinch away, she carefully placed her fingertips on his cheek. Like the rest of his body, his skin was rougher and thicker than a Sun-Person's. But unlike his hands, the skin on his face was softer yet. She trailed her fingers up his face and to his ear, which he twitched. She snickered once, and slowly ran her fingers through his hair. It was thick and rough, feeling like dead grass.

As her hand explored his face, he moved his free hand up her side to her shoulder, up her neck, and finally cupped her cheek. Her face was as soft and warm as the rest of her body. But he didn't feel disgusted. Mirroring her actions, he let his fingertips graze her hair. It was softer than any goblin hair he had felt, from a male or a female, but it was still as thick. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut with a slight sigh. Her eyelids rose again, though only slightly and she gazed at him though her eyelashes. He felt his heart pause briefly, and he swallowed thickly.

She began raising her head up to his. He flinched back a tiny bit, causing her to pause. But when he didn't show any other resistance, she moved again, albeit slower. Finally, she pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes again. He gazed down at her before shutting his eyelids as well. He held her tighter against himself, and cupped the back of her head. She wrapped her other arm around the back of his neck.

Though they didn't realize at the time, neither of them wanted the moment to end.


	37. Chapter 36 -- Howls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

_Aaooooooohhh!_

Both Irene and Froglip jumped at the long, loud howl. And after a second, there were more howls. They sounded like they were both near and coming from the mountain. But they didn't see any of the wolves. Just the trees behind them and the grass and bushes in front of them.

He glanced down at her, realizing he was holding her close, as if to try and keep her close and away from danger. "We... we better go," he muttered, nudging her away.

She simply nodded, feeling sad and angry that the moment had been interrupted. But he was right, they came here for a bigger reason than to dance and bond. And they were close to that reason. She pulled on her shoes, grabbed up her bag, and sighed heavily. "Well... I'm ready."  _Ready as I'll ever be._

Taking his spear in hand, Froglip marched to the mountain, with Irene right beside him. She glanced at him every now and then. He was walking tall and strong, with a look of determination and his spear held tightly in his fist. His cape billowed behind him, though there was barely a breeze. He looked every bit the terrifying goblin she had encountered all those years ago.

In fact, he looked even scarier as an adult.

As they neared the mountain, something rustled in the tall grass near them. She flinched closer to him with a squeal; he barely glanced at the stranger as footsteps marched closer to them.

Her eyes widened when she saw it was a wolf, a brownish-dark-gray wolf. It had piercing orange eyes, dark shredded ears, and a lighter mask around its eyes. Though not nearly as big as Dirtclaw, it was still huge.

It paused and stared at the two of them as they walked by. And to her horror, it began following them. But it didn't attack them, nor did it get too close to them. It still stared at them though, as if tempting them to try and get away, or attack it to try and scare it away.

Slowly, a few more wolves came out. They were all different shades of gray and brown, had varying eye colors, scars and other markings, and all either followed them or walked beside them. They didn't get too close, but they all looked ready to pounce if either of them made a wrong move. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, that he was glancing at the wolves, and looked a little uncomfortable. He gripped his spear so tightly that his fingers began to turn white, and even grabbed Irene's sleeve to pull her closer to him. Though she didn't complain whatsoever.

As they got closer and closer to the mountain, everything caught up to her at once.  _This is it,_  she thought to herself.  _This is really it. We're really going to do this. We'll be confronting Dirtclaw... and there will be a fight... and someone will die._

She prayed as hard as she could, with all her heart, that it wouldn't be herself or Froglip who would die.

* * *

_Aaooooooohhh!_

_Aaaaooohhhhh! Aaaaaoooooooohh! Aaaoooohhhhhh!_

The howls were sounded. Stormcloud, who was sitting on the ledge, perked his ears up at the sounds. Though most animals and all Uprights didn't know it, howls to a wolf were quick messages. They were sometimes used to spread brief, yet important messages; other times, they would be speaking to another wolf who was far away. These howls were the former, and they were simple to understand: they're here.

At first, he cocked his head in confusion.  _They? I thought only Froglip was coming. Who's with him?_

Riverrush came running up from the base of the mountain, looking very excited.  _[He's here! The goblin is here!]_  he exclaimed, bouncing up high several times.

_[Yes, I know. Calm down. But the patrol says he's not alone?]_

_[No, he's not! He has an Upright with him!]_  He suddenly stood very still, eyes wide and expression serious. He very seldom looked like this. Discounting the giant eyes, he looked like an older, wiser wolf.

_[What? Wh-... you know, never mind. You should tell Dirtclaw this.]_

Nodding happily, Riverrush ran into the mountain.  _[Wait! Let me see them first, and then we'll tell him!]_ Shaking his head with frustration, Stormcloud trotted to the ledge and looked over it at the patrol of wolves approaching the mountain.

Sure enough, among the small group, was a tall creature that looked like an Upright, except it was light-green, with wild hair and a cape. He was holding a spear in his hand, and was marching forward like a soldier ready for battle. From how Dirtclaw physically described him, this was Froglip.

But he also saw that Riverrush was right, and that he had an Upright with him. It looked like a female, it had short hair and brown and green clothes, and had something over its shoulder. It walked close to the goblin, and was glancing at the wolves.

Humming in thought, he turned and ran into the mountain. He hoped that Dirtclaw was in a good mood and didn't chew out Riverrush too much for telling him something unbelievable. But he knew that if he confirmed his claims, the larger wolf would believe it. Both because he was an older and more experienced wolf, and because it would be two witnesses to something unbelievable.

* * *

Riverrush ran into the room, calling out Dirtclaw's name excitedly. He woke up quickly with a start. He started to growl angrily at being woken up so abruptly, but it died in his throat when the younger wolf continued,  _[Froglip's here! Hes coming!]_

His snarl turned into a pleased grin. "Finally, it took him long enough," he remarked under his breath. yawning widely.

_[But there's something else you need to know.]_

_[What?]_

_[He's not alone.]_

_[… Excuse me?]_

_[He has an Upright with him!]_

_[That's impossible,]_  Dirtclaw frowned, standing to his feet and stretching his back legs.  _[He hates Sun-People.]_

 _[It's true, Dirtclaw,]_  Stormcloud said, walking into the room next to Riverrush.  _[I saw them myself. The patrol is bringing Froglip to the mountain, and he has a female Upright with him.]_

"A female? This is an interesting situation."  _[Well, if it's a female, she won't be any trouble. Especially since she's a Sun-Person.]_

 _[Maybe he has her as a hostage?]_  Riverrush wondered.

_[Why would he need a hostage?]_

_[It doesn't matter,]_  Dirtclaw stated, walking out of the room. Stormcloud and Riverrush followed close behind.  _[Tell the patrol to bring them into the main room, and for them and the others to stand guard at all exits. But remember, don't touch him! Do whatever you wish to the Upright, but Froglip is mine!]_

Nodding, both wolves ran forward and let out barks and howls. The other wolves in the mountain answered with howls of their own, and they could hear howls from outside. The winged wolf grinned widely, and he couldn't help but let his tail wag. Finally, after several long, excruciating days of waiting, he could taste his revenge.

And it tasted absolutely divine.

* * *

Irene jumped and cried out in fright as the wolves around her and Froglip let out howls. She clamped her hands over her ears, whimpering. Glancing at her, he growled at the wolves and held up his spear threateningly. Some of the wolves growled in response, but still didn't attack them. "Do you still have your knife on your belt?" he whispered to Irene.

"Yes," she nodded, patting it.

"Good. Do not lose it. You'll need it."

When they reached the foot of the mountain, they saw several large steps leading up to a large ledge that was high up on the mountain, though not near the summit. Froglip climbed up onto one rock and held down his hand for Irene to gab. She took it, and he pulled her up next to him. He took hold of her waist with both hands and lifted her up to the next rock. As she climbed all the way onto it, he pulled himself onto the rock. Behind them, the wolves leaped onto the rocks almost effortlessly, as if they had been climbing up and down the mountain their whole lives. They didn't hurry up; instead, they waited patiently for them to climb up onto a ledge, and they would follow closely.

By the time they reached the ledge, two wolves had come out of the large entrance that led into the mountain. They stood between two creature statues that had ugly glares and crystals for eyes. They reminded Irene of goblins, and she remembered that the Mountain Man had told them that goblins had run from the mountain. Seeing the statues confirmed it in her mind, and she realized that these same wolves had chased the goblins from their home.

Years, and even days ago, she wouldn't have cared. They were goblins, who cared? But having learned about goblins, and bonded with Froglip, she felt sick and uncomfortable to be in a stolen home.

The larger wolf was gray and white, and the thinner one was black and brown. They let out several growls and groans, which the other wolves answered. "What are they saying?" she whispered as they entered the mountain, the wolves still behind them. The two new ones walked in front of them, as if escorting them into their domain. Almost immediately, the air was colder, and they could smell rock and wolves.

"I don't speak wolf," he answered shortly.

"But Dirtclaw-"

"-Dirtclaw can speak both wolf and Sun-Person language."

Deeper and deeper in the mountain they walked. They could see other various signs of goblins having once lived there; there were more statues strewn about, carvings and paintings on the walls, and the odd weapon laying about here and there. It looked like the wolves hadn't bothered to clean it out. They had left it just as it had been when the former occupants were chased away, and any weapons that had been moved were probably kicked to the side by accident. It almost felt like it was haunted, like they would be able to see ghosts out of the corners of their eyes.

Finally, the two wolves in front stopped and turned around. Froglip skidded to a stop and pushed Irene behind him. He curled his lips and glared at the wolves, growling deep in his throat. They growled back, though they stayed where they stood. Their feet planted into the ground, the fur on the backs of their necks standing on end, and their tails sticking straight out from their bodies.

She looked around, paling at the sight of even more wolves coming out. They slunk out of the many tunnels and surrounded them, joining the escorts from both the base and the mountain. She counted at least fourteen of them, and they were all staring at them intently. Heheld his hand back, pulling her closer to him. He still gripped his spear and growled at the wolves.

The two wolves' ears flicked back and they stopped growling. All of the other wolves followed suit. At first, the tunnels were silent, save for a few lingering growl echos. But then, there was the sound of clicking claws. Shivers ran up both the goblin and princess's spines, but they stayed still.

The gray and black wolves stepped to the side, revealing a larger wolf slowly padding up to the duo. He exited the shadows, revealing black fur, red eyes, and scars littered across his face and upper body. The freshest was on his right paw, and he was limping ever so slightly on it.

Dirtclaw.

"Well now, it took you long enough," he remarked with a sly smirk. His voice still made Irene quiver. She didn't know if it was the deepness of his voice, or the fact that it was coming from an animal. "And you've brung a... companion? How cute. I never expected you to travel with a Sun-Girl, Froglip."

 _He doesn't know Irene's the Sun-Princess? That's good, he'll probably leave her alone._  "She is of no concern to you, Dirtclaw," he glowered, holding his spear with both hands. "This is between you and  _me_."

"... Indeed." He flicked his tail to the side. All of the wolves backed away, leaving a large circle with Froglip and Irene in the middle. Some of them trotted down separate tunnels, including the one they had first come from.

 _They're blocking the exits,_  the goblin realized. But as Dirtclaw continued, he didn't let his nervousness show, "I will admit, I am impressed that you managed to escape the Sun-People's prison. However... you won't be so lucky this time."

"It's  _you_  whose luck has run out. But enough talk, it bores me!" With a mighty roar, Froglip charged.


	38. Chapter 37 -- Wolf vs Goblin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

The spear flew through the air, headed straight for Dirtclaw's face. He jumped to the side, letting it embed itself into the floor. The pole shook like a reed blowing in the wind, almost taunting Froglip for missing his target.

The wolf leaped at the goblin with a loud growl. He almost sounded like a lion. He stood on his hind legs and leaned against him. He tried to wrap his arms around his neck. He lunged his head forward to bite at his neck.

Froglip leaned back as far as he could. He pushed Dirtclaw's face away with his hands; he ended up sticking his thumbs into the corners of his mouth. The wolf furrowed his eyebrows and began flapping his wings as hard as he could. The goblin could feel them beating against his sides.

Dirtclaw jerked his head from side to side, trying to bite down on Froglip's thumbs. He pulled his hands away and grabbed his snout. He growled through his nose as he tried to pry his muzzle out of his hands. He did manage to slip out and headbutted him.

His head flew back. The wolf took this opportunity to try and grab his neck. Froglip punched him upside the snout and in the throat. It sent him falling onto his back. Two of the wolves ran over and nudged him to his feet. "Get off of me!" he snapped before growling at the goblin. He tried to run to grab his spear, but Dirtclaw grabbed his cape and pulled back, causing him to fall onto his back. As Dirtclaw leaped at him, he rolled over.

Before he could get up, Dirtclaw jumped onto his back. Froglip tried to stand up, but the wolf grabbed a mouthful of his hair. He pulled back hard. He screamed as he was nearly scalped. He threw his head back hard, knocking into Dirtclaw's nose. He let go with a yelp and sat back. He pawed at his bleeding nose as Froglip jumped to his feet. Shaking his head, he grabbed at his ankles. Froglip moved one foot back; the wolf snapped at the other. This continued for several steps until he was backed against a wall. The wolf raised both his front paws and stomped onto his feet as hard as he could.

Froglip screamed in agony and fell over. His eyes were tearing up from pain. As he clutched his feet, Dirtclaw leaped onto him and tried to bite his neck. But the goblin was curled and scrunched up enough to protect his throat.

Irene watched the fight, frozen with fright. She looked behind them and saw the spear still standing in the ground. She ran over to it and pulled it out. It was heavier than it looked. She lifted it up with two hands to try and stab at Dirtclaw's back. Three of the wolves charged at her, putting themselves between her and the fight. They growled and snapped at her. One of them managed to grab the spear in its jaws. They pulled it from her hands and threw it to the side.

Over Dirtclaw's shoulder, Froglip saw the wolves snapping at Irene, who looked white with terror. "Leave her alone!" he snarled, pushing Dirtclaw away with sudden strength. Before he could grab one of the wolves, he was tackled to the ground and knocked his head against the floor. He rolled onto his back and blinked the stars from his eyes. They widened when he saw a large black wolf with red eyes glaring down at him.

"It's as you said, she is of no concern," he said haughtily. He placed his paw on Froglip's throat and pressed down hard. "Look at you," he scoffed as the goblin flailed under him and grabbed at his fur. He pushed his claws deeper into his flesh and grinned as he coughed and gagged. "How pathetic that you need a Sun-Girl to help you. And I thought you were better than that. I suppose banishment made you soft."

He suddenly smashed his nose against Froglip's with an angry growl, "But I suppose you  _were_  able to scar me! Remember, back at the Sun-Person's castle?! When you threw dirt into my eyes and cut my paw with that Sun-Person's weapon?!"

A rock was thrown at his head. He shook himself off and looked at where it was thrown. The Sun-Girl was standing and glaring at him. The wolves stared at her and him in shock. "He didn't do that,  _I_  did!" she yelled, ignoring Froglip's frantic head-shaking.

He narrowed his eyes at the Sun-Girl, wondering just who she was. Why was she here with Froglip in the first place? Why was she so important to him? And why did she look so familiar?

Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the night he tried to attack Froglip at the castle. He wasn't alone when he entered the dungeon room; there was a Sun-Girl with long orange hair and a thin dress. She looked terrified to see him, and had run out of the tower after he started crashing against the gate.

Another memory came to light, as if he had suppressed it. He remembered that through the pain and blurriness in his eyes, he saw something in a dress running towards him. It stopped and raised something shiny above its head. Then his paw seemed to explode with pain.

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "The Sun-Princess," he realized in a soft voice. His astonished expression turned to one of anger. He stepped off of Froglip's throat and began running to her, growling deep in his throat. Her eyes widened in fright and she backed away a few steps.

Before he could leap onto her, something grabbed his lower half, slamming him to the ground. Shaking his head, he looked over his shoulder. Froglip had his arms wrapped around his waist and was laying on the wolf's back. "Irene, run!" he cried out, his voice a little hoarse from getting choked.

She took off towards the entrance. Two wolves—one was a sandy-colored one with a sliced ear, and the other was a gray and white one—jumped in front of her, snarling. She skidded to a stop and stepped back. They followed her, the fur on their backs bristled up. She turned around and ran into a tunnel that wasn't blocked by wolves. They stayed where they stood.

Dirtclaw squirmed and writhed in Froglip's grip, but he refused to let him go. He kicked with his hind legs, but he couldn't reach his feet. He managed to roll himself onto his side within the goblin's arms. He swiped his paws along the ground at his face until he managed to throw a pawful of dirt into his golden eyes. "See how  _you_  like it!" he snapped as Froglip let him go with a pained groan. He pushed himself to his feet and took off down the tunnel the Sun-Girl ran down.

Rubbing and blinking his eyes until they stopped hurting and he could see clearly, Froglip pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his spear. It had tiny little marks in it from being grabbed by the wolf, but it was otherwise unharmed.

He ran in the direction Dirtclaw and Irene had run, but several wolves blocked the way. They included the black wolf that they met in the mountain, another sandy-colored one with scars on its muzzle, and the third was a brown wolf with dark eyes and a lighter facial mask, legs, and belly. They snarled at him, didn't make a move to attack him.

Glancing between them, he jabbed his spear at one. It jumped back with a surprised grunt. He stepped to another and lunged again. The wolf backed away as well, but snapped at him. He took this opportunity to shove the spear up into its throat. It tried to yelp in pain, but merely succeeded in coughing up blood. He lifted the spear up, lifting the now dead wolf as well, and threw it to the side.

Suddenly, another wolf leapt at him with a loud growl. He swiped at it with the spear, catching it across the face. Blood spattered onto the ground as it fell and pawed at the slice in its face. Another wolf charged; he held his spear horizontally and shoved the wolf in the chest, knocking it back. He stabbed at another attacking wolf, managing to shove the spearhead down its throat. He swung the spear around and managed to throw the wolf into another. The others backed away from him, now looking frightened.

With the wolves distracted, he took off into the tunnel.


	39. Chapter 38 -- Princess vs Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

She could hear her frightened breathing echo through the tunnels as she ran. She didn't know if she could hear paw-steps behind her, but she didn't dare stop to check. She kept on running and running. Her heart nearly gave out when she heard a taunt, "There's only so far you can run on those two scrawny legs!" And she did hear paws pounding and claws clicking against the stone behind her. She could hear him laughing, and coming closer and closer.

And she kept on running and running.

Eventually she passed two creature statues that were holding spears. She ran into the room they were guarding, finding a short platform, and multiple glowing crystals inside. She pressed herself back against the wall near the entrance, making herself as flat as possible. She clasped her hands over her mouth to try and keep herself quiet, but she swore her breathing echoed loudly throughout the room.

She knew that going into the mountain, it wouldn't be simple as confronting the winged wolf and stabbing him in the belly. But she never expected it all to be so horrifying. She didn't expect for him to have a pack of wolves on his side. She was afraid of Dirtclaw before, yes. But she had been in her own home, she knew where to hide, and she knew where the weapons were. And there were guards for her to scream for if she needed them.

Here, she felt like a trapped mouse awaiting the hungry cat.

She could feel tears falling over her fingers She tried to slow down her breathing, but it only seemed to make her hyperventilate more.  _What do I do?! What do I do?! All right, you need to think clearly, Irene! He's coming soon, he will find you, and you need to defend yourself!_  She began to glance around the room, trying to find a weapon. But she found nothing but scattered rocks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dagger hanging off of her hip. She stared at it, remembering something Froglip had told her: during the war against the winged wolves, the goblins had used arrows to injure the wolves' wings. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt and slowly pulled it out. Remembering Froglip's words, she held it so it was parallel to her forearm. She took a deep breath in through the nose, and out through pursed lips.

"No matter how fast you run," she heard a deep voice drawl right outside the cave, "and no matter where you hide, I  _will_  catch you."

She held her breath as Dirtclaw came into the room, taking each step slowly and carefully. His ears were perked up and alert. They curved towards each other slightly, reminding Irene of horns. Devil horns. How fitting.

He paused and glanced to the side, though not straight at her. She could see his blood-red eye, and the scars running across his face. They looked rough and ragged, is if they had been made by claws. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called out softly.

Glancing down at her arm to make sure she still had the dagger in-hand, she crouched down slowly and picked up one of the pebbles. She stood up again and tossed it across the room.

His ears turned towards the echoing tap of the pebble bouncing across the floor. His head slowly turned to look in the same direction. His teeth showed as he grinned. She could see the scar down across his eye. This one looked straight and clean, as if it had been made with a knife. "Such a sad mistake you've made," he remarked as he began to stalk to where the pebble flew. His ears were perked up, and he slowly wagged his tail. As if anticipating catching her off-guard.

As soon as he was facing away from her, Irene pounced. She managed to land on his back. He stumbled forward with a surprised grunt. She grabbed a fistful of his fur and wrapped her legs around his waist. He snarled and began to jump around like a bucking horse. He flapped his wings, though he didn't take off. Taking a chance, she sliced and stabbed back through the air. She finally managed to shove her dagger through his wing. He yelped in pain as she pulled the blade through his membrane. She was able to make a deep slice that ran almost to the arm of the wing. Blood spurted out faster than she thought it would. She quickly switched her dagger to her other hand.

Groaning and whimpering in pain, Dirtclaw flopped onto his side and rolled onto his back. She cried out in shock at having a heavy wolf on her. She tried to wrap her arms and legs tighter around his body to stay on. But his weight crushed her, causing her grip to loosen. He rolled to his feet and clambered away from her.

She stayed on her back for a few seconds from shock. She blinked when she heard coughing and gasping. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at Dirtclaw. He was standing on all four feet, but looked like he would collapse. His tongue was hanging out as he breathed heavily. His injured wing flopped to the ground, as if it had been broken rather than sliced.

Her eyes widened when she saw her dagger embedded in his side, pinning the other wing against his body. She looked down at her hands, confirming that her dagger indeed had stabbed him when he rolled onto her. Half through intent and half through sheer dumb luck, she had crippled him.

Dirtclaw coughed several more times before looking up with watery eyes. He tried to lift the pinned wing, but the dagger held fast. He whined in pain and stumbled. He was breathing heavily as if he had held his breath for a long while. As soon as he saw Irene, his pained expression turned into one of anger. "You little... bitch!" he snarled, sounding wheezy. She began backing away from him, but hit the wall. "When I'm... through with Froglip... I'm going to-!"

He was interrupted when Froglip charged into the room, spear in hand. He roared at Dirtclaw angrily; he snarled back and ran at him. He leaped at Froglip, but he managed to stay on his feet. He held up his spear horizontally to block the wolf. He grabbed at the spear with his jaws and pushed it with both paws. He glanced down at the ground, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. He raised one hind foot and stomped it onto Froglip's foot. He sank his claws into his flesh.

The goblin screamed in pain. His arms relaxed as he groaned in pain. Dirtclaw let the spear go and headbutted him. He fell onto his back with a grunt. His spear flew back and clattered against a wall. He grasped at his foot, hissing. He wasn't bleeding, but he could see claw marks in the sensitive flesh.

Before Dirtclaw could leap onto Froglip, his tail was yanked back. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Irene hanging onto his tail with both hands. She pulled back with an angry grunt, struggling to catch the floor with her feet. He twisted around quickly and snapped at her. She gasped as his teeth nearly sliced her arm and jumped to the side away from him. He turned to the opposite side and snapped again.

As they did this dance, Froglip tried to stand. But his foot was too injured for him to get up. He looked over his shoulder for his spear. He saw it laying on the ground near the wall of the tunnel opposite to the room. He began to crawl backwards towards it. He glanced at Dirtclaw and Irene every now and then.

"Enough!" Dirtclaw shouted, coughing harshly. Blood flew out of his mouth. Blood was dripping from his injured wings and down his side. He spun around in a tight circle and swiped at Irene. He caught her in the shoulder. She screamed as she fell. His tail flew from her grip. He growled at her before turning back to Froglip. Wheezing loudly with a maniacal grimace, he ran at the goblin. "Froglip, no!" Irene wailed, frozen with fright.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion for everyone. Froglip finally grabbed the spear. He looked up to see Dirtclaw leaping at him. He held his spear up so it pointed to the ceiling. He clenched his eyes shut and prayed his quick plan would work.

Seeing the weapon, Dirtclaw's eyes widened. He tried to flap his wings to raise himself into the air. But one wing was stuck to his side. And the other was nearly sliced in half. It flapped weakly, spraying blood everywhere. And he continued to fall.

He fell onto Froglip with a loud, pained yelp. Irene could hear a squelch. She screamed loudly. It echoed through the tunnels, sounding like thousands of ghosts wailing in the mountain. The winged wolf lay silently on him. His arms were stretched out as if to grab the goblin. One wing lay limp, and the other remained pinned with the dagger. His sides pumped like billows as he breathed heavily. But they slowed down until he was still. Deadly still.

Froglip still didn't move.


	40. Chapter 39 -- Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.

Dirtclaw's shoulders began to rise up. Irene froze as she approached them, eyes wide. Did nothing kill this wolf? Was he an immortal demon?

But then he was shoved to the side and flopped onto the ground. The spear was sticking out of his belly just below his rib cage, his eyes were glazed over, and his jaws were pulled in an eternal snarl. Froglip pushed himself up onto his elbows, panting heavily and looking stunned. He was winded, but he was alive.

"Froglip!" Irene screamed, running to him.

He turned to her and immediately held out his arm. Once she was close enough, he pulled her into a tight hug. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, and she returned his hug with equal strength. She was sobbing against his chest from both relief and fright, and it felt like she had no intention of letting go.

Not that he minded at the moment.

His ears perked up at the sound of running paws over her crying. Looking through the ends of her hair, he saw several of the wolves had come running through the tunnels. They skidded to a stop and stared in horror at Dirtclaw's body. When they looked at the goblin, he pulled his lips back in an ugly glare and growled loudly at them.

Riverrush turned around with a yelp and ran out as fast as its legs could carry it. Stormcloud followed close behind, and Sandstone and Smokesky, a brownish-gray wolf with a paler mask, did as well. As they ran out, they sounded long, loud howls.

These howls said that Dirtclaw was dead, and that they needed to get out.

If someone were to walk by the mountain, or at least look in its general direction, they would see twelve wolves, of all colors, scars, and markings, running down and away from Skewer Summit as if a monster were on their tails. They ran through the woods, and disappeared through the trees. And they did not stop until they were so far from the mountain, they couldn't see it at all.

Once the wolves were gone, and their pawsteps and howls stopped echoing through the tunnels, Froglip sighed heavily. He gave Irene one more squeeze before nudging her back with a hand on her shoulder. "Did he hurt you?!" he asked fervently as his eyes began to well up.

"No, I'm all right," she shook her head. "Did he hurt  _you_?"

"Who cares?!" he exclaimed with a soft smile. The tears were now running down his face.

"I do," she said firmly, returning his smile. She cupped his face with both hands and kissed his forehead.

Chuckling, he hugged her again. This time when he looked over her shoulder, he saw Dirtclaw's dead body. He pushed her away with a sigh again, and reached over to pull his spear out of the wolf. Half of it was covered with blood, but the Sun-Person spearhead stayed firmly attached. He closed his jaw so it was merely wrinkled back in a growl, and closed his blood red eyes forever. He took a deep breath, leaned down next to his ear, and whispered something. She couldn't hear it properly, but she somehow knew he was saying goodbye.

"Shall we leave this place?" she asked, standing to her feet.

"Yes, that's a very good idea," he nodded. He hoisted Dirtclaw up across his shoulders and stood up as well. "Leave the dagger in him, if you would. It will make carrying him easier." He turned to her with the corners of his mouth quirked up. "You did good in injuring his wings. He wouldn't have been easily killed if it weren't for you."

"Stabbing him was an accident," she shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back. "I was mainly aiming to slash his wings."

"Regardless, it really helped."

* * *

"You know, when I asked you to bring his body back so I could make you a cloak, I was half-joking," the Mountain Man remarked as Froglip and Irene approached his house. It had taken them nearly the whole day to get to his cottage; the sun was beginning to set by the time they got there. He had evidently seen them coming, as he stood outside to meet them. His eyes had widened and his jaw dropped at the sight of the great wolf.

"Well, you offered," Froglip chuckled, adjusting Dirtclaw's body on his shoulders, "and so I took it."

"I'm still amazed that he exists. Not that I didn't believe you, mind you, but he just seemed..."

"Unbelievable?" Irene finished. "I felt the same way when Froglip first told me about him. It was only minutes later that I saw him with my own eyes."

"And I presume you two are the reason that a small pack of wolves came running from Skewer Summit?"

"They ran as soon as we killed him. He was using them to keep us in the mountain."

"They were probably the same pack that came to the mountain months ago," Froglip stated.

"That pack was twice as big as these wolves that came by. But then again, since goblins came from the same mountain, half were more than likely lost to them."

"Not that this isn't a fascinating chat, but where shall I set him? I've been carrying him for several hours, and he's heavy."

"Behind the cabin. That's where I do all my skinning and cleaning. But what shall I do with him exactly?"

"I want his main body to be the cloak. I want his head to be a hood, but cut the lower jaw off. His wings will be the front of the cloak, and will trail down my back. His front legs will be folded, and his paws resting on my shoulders."

"I like someone with a vision," the Mountain Man smiled as they lay Dirtclaw's body on a slanted table. He directed Froglip to place him such so that his head was uphill. He pulled a rolled up cloth out from a drawer under the table and opened it to reveal various knives and hooks. "If you don't mind, I like to work in silence. It's better that I don't have people hovering over my shoulder while I work. It helps me to make it the best of anything. But before you go, I  _do_  want to ask you two something: do you two plan on staying the night?"

"Yes, we do," the goblin nodded, brushing loose fur and dirt off of his shoulders. "It's far too late to do any traveling, and we always camp for the night anyway. This way we can start the journey home with a good night's rest and food in our bellies."

"That's a good plan. I'll start on Dirtclaw tomorrow, in that case. It will give me a better idea for how long it will take me. And we can also later talk about how you'll get him once I'm finished."

Nodding, Froglip strolled around the cabin, only to find Irene sitting on the front steps. She had her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and look depressed. "Are you all right?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"Our deal has been fulfilled," she answered in a monotone voice, as if all of the emotions had been sucked from her soul. "We'll be home soon, and I'll be wedded and crowned queen. You'll be pardoned, will retrieve your new cloak, and will return to your people."

"Well, about  _us_  returning home, I was thinking that I would stay with the Mountain Man until he's finished with Dirtclaw. It'll give me a chance to think about how I will represent myself to my people."

"So  _I'll_  return home then." She suddenly chuckled, though it sounded dry, "it's funny, we started this journey as enemies. But along the way, we slowly became friends."

"Yes, I suppose it  _is_  rather funny," he nodded.

She leaned against his shoulder and sighed, "I'll miss you so much."

After a beat, he wrapped his arm around her and held her close. "I'll miss you too." It hadn't truly occurred to him until now, now that they had a chance to relax and take everything in: after this, he would never see her again. If he ever stepped foot near the castle, it didn't matter how much Irene still thought of him as a friend, he would be chased away by guards and knights if he was lucky. And if he was able to reintegrate with the goblins, they wouldn't let him near the Sun-People castle. They were presumably still afraid of its inhabitants.

His ears perked up when he realized she had asked him a question. "What was that?"

"I asked if you were all right. You... you've killed your former pet and best friend. It doesn't matter how much evil he's done, you knew him as family once."

He simply stared off into space as he rolled her words around in his head. When he had pushed Dirtclaw's body off of himself, he felt relief. Relief that the fight was over, that he and Irene were both alive, and that the winged wolf had been killed. Sure he felt sad at the time, but he was more concerned with making sure Irene was all right.

But now that everything and everyone had calmed down, it came rushing to him. Even though it would have never worked, there was no longer a chance for redemption for Dirtclaw. Even if he had laughed at the idea, or gone for the throat the minute he opened his mouth, there would be no talking with Dirtclaw, attempting to try and understand his side better, or even giving him a more dignified execution—though he still didn't deserve that. He was gone forever, as was any chance of trying to speak civil to him one last time.

All Froglip had left were the memories of what Dirtclaw once was. Even if those memories were slowly being crushed and crumbled, and replaced with what he had become, and everything he had done to hurt him and his loved ones. It was those memories that would stick longer.

He didn't realize he had been crying until the tears splashed on his knees and Irene hugged him tighter. He gripped her shoulder with one hand and clutched at his face with the other. As she rubbed his back and cooed for him to let it out, he sobbed for what felt like hours on the front steps of a Sun-Man's house. He cried for what he had lost, both years and hours ago. For his parents and the other goblins he had lost in the past, and for what he had nearly lost that day.

All because of one wolf who let revenge and blood-lust consume him, and turn him into a monster.

* * *

The following morning, after breakfast, Froglip decided that he would escort Irene home, but then return to the Mountain Man's cabin to await his cloak's completion. The Mountain Man showed the two of them a barn that was a few minutes walk away from his house, where he kept the biggest horse Irene or Froglip had ever seen. It was far bigger than the ones they had attempted to use in the beginning of their journey, had what seemed to be long fur on its fetlocks, and was black with a white blaze down its face, and lower legs.

"I use him to pull heavy equipment that I can't move myself," the Mountain Man remarked, patting the horse's heavy neck. "But hes gentle, he'll carry both of you, and can go pretty far. And he knows his way back home, so you just need to send him on his way in the right direction."

"You've helped us twice," Irene remarked with a grateful smile. "I can't tell you how thankful we are for you."

"No need to mention it," he smiled, patting her hand. "You just get yourself home safe and sound, all right?"

She nodded before hugging him. He hugged her back with a chuckle. "All right, you two need to get going before you lose too much daylight," he chided as Froglip finally managed to climb on the horse's back. He had needed a stool to mount him, yet still had trouble. The Mountain Man helped Irene onto the horse so she was sitting behind the goblin. "You two be careful getting home, you hear?"

"Thank you again, Mountain Man," she waved as Froglip grabbed fistfuls of the horse's mane and kicked him into a gallop with his heels. She cried out in shock and grabbed him around the waist as they took off. She had forgotten how fast and bouncy horses were when they ran, and this one was even more so.

They rode all morning and well into the afternoon, slowing down every now and then so the horse could save his strength. The river had calmed and gone down enough to reveal a large tree trunk acting as a bridge, which made Froglip relieved that they wouldn't have to swim again. Every few hours, they would let him stop so he could fully rest and eat. During those times, they foraged for food and ate as well. They didn't speak much; they simply enjoyed the silence and each others' company.

Because they knew it would not last forever.

Finally, when they were about to mount the horse and take off again, Froglip heard voices. He shushed Irene and crept through the bushes. When he peeked through, his eyes widened when he saw several Sun-Men on horseback, all wearing similar-looking clothes. Half had purple shirts with a white and purple eye on the front, and the other half had pink shirts with an off-white pigeon. Every now and then, one would call out, "Princess Irene!"

His ears tilted down in realization. He looked back when she called out his name. She opened her mouth to say something else, but then she saw the Sun-Men. Her face. at first. lit up at seeing familiar faces, but it fell as soon as she realized what this meant.

She could go home.

"You should go with them." She turned to Froglip in surprise. He shrugged and continued, "You wanted to go home, and here they are. You can be safely escorted home."

"Y-you've been keeping me safe."

"Yeah, safe," he scoffed. "Getting nearly assaulted by two Sun-Men, almost drowning, and being attacked by wolves."

"Stop that," she hugged, trying to shove him. But he barely moved. "You've saved me twice."

He chuckled at her attempt at pushing him. He ruffled her hair, making her groan. But then she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, and he returned it. "I'll miss you so much," she whispered.

"You've said that before," he remarked. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his forehead against hers. This simple action brought back the memory of when they were dancing, just before they had been interrupted by the wolves. He remembered that he wanted the moment to last forever.

With everything that happened afterwards, and now, he wished it had lasted longer now more than ever.

"It doesn't make it any less true."

"In that case, I'll miss you too." He ignored the tears running down his face as she stepped back away from him. He clutched her fingers in both his hands and kissed the backs of both of her hands. She shivered as she felt his lips press against her skin, but she somehow knew it wasn't from fear or disgust.

When he finally let her hands go, she touched her necklace with her fingertips. She only had to think briefly before she made a decision, "I want you to have this." She reached behind and unlatched her necklace.

"Irene-"

"-My father gave this to me on the day of my betrothal ceremony," she continued. "He said it was my mother's before."

"Irene, I can't take it," he protested, raising his hands up.

"You're not taking it," she smiled softly, nudging his hands apart and latching the necklace around his neck, "I'm giving it to you. My grandmother gave me the feathers and petals to help me... so perhaps it can stretch to you."

He stayed still until she moved her hands away. He grasped at the stone and pigeons in one hand, and felt the warmth the jewelry had absorbed from its previous owner. "Well, as long as we're exchanging items to remember the other by," he remarked, letting the necklace go and unclasping his cape.

"Froglip!" she exclaimed, backing away a step. "I-"

"-You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you," he chuckled, swinging it around her so it fell down her back and latching it around her neck. He cocked his head to the side as he observed her. The pin was in the center of her chest just above her breasts, where her necklace used to sit. The black fabric flowed over her shoulders and upper arms, and down to her ankles. "It suits you," he said with a nod.

"It's warm," she said quietly, grasping at the edges.

He simply chuckled at this. "Well... goodbye, Irene."

"Goodbye, Froglip," she whispered. She slowly turned around, took a deep breath, and began to march towards the Sun-Men. He found himself almost following her until he grabbed a tree to keep himself hidden. He watched as she began to run to them, pretending as if she had been lost, and cried out for them. Several of them dismounted their horses and crowded around her. He snickered under his breath when one tried to remove the cloak, but she grabbed at it and appeared to hiss at him like an angry cat whose food had been threatened.

His throat felt like it was closing up when another Sun-Man grasped her waist and hoisted her up onto his horse. Within a matter of minutes, he joined her, and they rode off in the direction they had been going. His chest felt heavy and pained, as though he had been stabbed. But when he clasped his hand over his chest—he felt strange and cold without his cape—he only felt the necklace at the tips of his fingers. He watched as the last of the horses disappeared, and the brush and grass slowly stopped waving about.

And she was gone.


	41. Chapter 40 -- Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> From here on out, things get a little darker.

It only took a few days for Irene to be brought home. The knights tried to ask what had happened to her, and why she left, but she only told them that she would explain everything when they got home. The sight of the castle filled her heart with nostalgic warmth, and it made her smile. But there was also sad gloom from realizing her father wouldn't greet her with a hug, an invitation to talk about everything she had done and experienced, and a mug of warm ale in front of the fire. He was long dead, and probably buried by now.

There was also an icy feeling of trepidation in realization that Aldrich was still there, and that she would still marry him. Something about it felt disgusting, as if she was betraying Froglip in marrying him.

But before she could ponder on it further, the gates were opened and they rode into the courtyard of the castle. They were greeted by Aldrich, who was flanked by two of his guards. "Ah, my beloved Irene has been found safe and sound!" he announced as she was lifted off of the horse. Everyone who was in the courtyard cheered as he held her close with one arm and cupped her face, smiling warmly. She tried to smile back, but it felt fake. His hands felt too smooth, and his skin too pink. It felt strange. But she surmised it as being with Froglip for so long, she forgot what another Sun-Person looked and felt like.

"Good lord, what happened to you?" he asked, looking her up and down with a critical eye. "Your beautiful hair is shorn, you're dressed in peasant clothes, and... is that the goblin's cape?" He lifted it up with two fingers, glaring at it in disgust. "Are you all right? Have you been-"

"-I'm fine!" she snapped, pulling the cape away quickly. "I just... there's a lot to talk about."

"Indeed," he nodded with a raised eyebrow. "You'll be bathed and clothed in something more proper, and then we'll discuss your... journey."

Everything seemed to happen so quickly, it almost blurred before Irene's eyes. Her clothes were removed—though she demanded that the cape be returned to her afterwards, much to the utter confusion of the ladies tending to her—and she was scrubbed until her skin was glowing, and her hair clean and brushed. Then she was dried and dressed in a simple pink gown and darker pink flats. As she reattached her cape, not allowing anyone else to touch it, she sighed. She felt like her old self again, except a little wiser and more experienced. It felt both satisfying and bittersweet.

Finally, she was brought before Aldrich. Something didn't sit right with the way he was sat in her father's throne, with a mix of their men huddled around them in the main hall, but she pushed that aside. They were to be married soon, of course she should get used to where he would sit. "Now, I want to know everything," he said, folding his hands on his lap. "Tell it all, and tell it true."

Nodding, she took a deep breath and began telling her story. She told of how she let Froglip out of his prison, and they stole away into the night, with Curdie by their side. Of how their goal was Skewer Summit, where Dirtclaw would be found and killed. How Curdie doubled back after a few days, and she and Froglip set off on their own. How they were briefly separated in a flash flood in a river, but rescued by a kind Mountain Man. How they succeeded in reaching Skewer Summit and killed the beast. How she was found by her men and brought home.

The whole journey came rushing back to her, and it made her feel tired and winded. Had it only been nearly two weeks since she had last been home? Since her father had died, and her life changed forever? It felt like it had been much, much longer of a journey.

As she told the story, she saw the look Aldrich was giving her. It wasn't one of concern or astonishment, like how she'd imagine someone like Curdie, her father, or even Froglip giving her as she's telling her story. It was one of incredulousness and disbelief, as if she was making up everything she had just said.

"In the end, everything turned out all right," she finished. "Dirtclaw is dead, and everyone he's killed has been avenged, including my father."

"... Irene," Aldrich said slowly. He had his hands pressed together in front of his mouth, as if he were praying. "You cannot expect me to believe everything you've just said."

"But it's the truth!"

"Do you have proof?"

"Proof? Well, not exactly, but-"

"-Then there is no reason for me to believe you. But what I  _do_  have prove of is that you abandoned your kingdom, and with the enemy of your kingdom, no less. And  _I_  have proof that you may be crazy and hysterical."

She shook her head in disbelief. She knew that there would be tension when she returned, but not to this extent. "What do you want to hear from me?" she whispered.

"Something that makes sense."

"Makes sense to  _you_ , you mean? You want me to lie?! I'm not lying! Just because  _you_  weren't there, it doesn't mean it didn't happen!"

"Enough! I've heard enough of this! Irene of Porumbel, I am placing you under arrest for treason against your kingdom and mine, and for insanity. You will be placed in a cell until further notice. Take her away," he nodded at the guards.

She gaped in shock and horror at this command. "Y-you can't! You don't rule this kingdom!"

"Actually, my dear, I co-rule it."

"But we're not married-"

"-We are betrothed to be married, and I am the eldest. And your people agree with me that I am the best to rule, since I have prior experience for ruling a kingdom, and you are likely still hysterical and in grief over your father. Understandable, but regardless. And now I see that they were right."

"Please, you can't do this! Please!" Tears of frustration and fright were now running down her face. Two men took her by the arms and led her out of the room. She turned to the knights she knew were once hers, but they looked away. They either looked indifferent or ashamed, but they did nothing, and said nothing.

* * *

Irene was stripped of her new clothing and left in a simple white dress that had a few tatters. She fought for Froglip's cape, however, and they eventually let her have it. A small mercy, they called it. She was put in the same cell that Froglip had been held in nearly two weeks prior.  _How ironic,_  she thought to herself. She looked among the straw for the sword she had injured Dirtclaw with, but found nothing but the aforementioned straw, as well as several browned blood spatters on the stone floor.

She sat in the straw, knees hugged to her chest, and cried against them. Her own people had turned against her. Or perhaps they had been talked into turning against her? She did leave with a goblin, after all. But it had been to avenge her father. He had been the only one to know where Dirtclaw was. Goblins were real, so how hard was it to believe that winged-wolves were also real? But she knew that saying that wouldn't convince them. They wouldn't listen.

After a day, Aldrich visited her, though he merely stood outside of the cell. "I have been thinking, and I am willing to lessen your punishment. But only if you answer one question."

"And that is?" she asked, her voice shaky from her sobs.

"Where is the goblin?"

Her heart froze at this question. "Wh-why?"

"Why?! Such a ridiculous question. Have you forgotten he killed your-"

"-He didn't do it!" she suddenly shouted. "He was innocent!"

"Not in  _my_  eyes. And he never will be! You have yet to answer my question. You were with him for nearly two weeks, where is he?"

"... I don't know."

"You don't know," he scoffed.

"I  _don't_. Honest."

"Well, you haven't been honest as of late, how am I supposed to believe you?"

She didn't answer. She was so tired of proclaiming her innocence, only for it to be spat in her face that she was lying. What was the point if she would be continued to be called a liar and traitor?

"I will ask one last time... and if you still do not answer, I will be forced to use other methods to get my information. Where is the goblin?"

"I d-don't know," she whispered, a tear falling down her face. She wasn't stupid, she knew what would happen. But she didn't dare betray her dear friend. Not when there was another life at stake if she told the truth.

He shook his head solemnly, as if sadly disappointed. "I'm afraid there are other methods of interrogation. I trust you know them well?"

She nodded numbly. She barely noticed the gate opening, or two men taking her up by her arms and leading her through hallways and down stairs. She blinked, and she was suddenly in a dark room under the castle. She could smell dried blood and piss, and could hear their footsteps echo against the walls. The only light was torches that lined the walls, and she could see cages, chains, and other torture devices.

Jamison had forbidden her from ever coming down to this room. He didn't even want to tell her about it until she learned of torture and interrogation. She had been horrified by his tellings of what happened in this room, and that he had to go through with some himself. He told her that he never enjoyed hurting people, and that he had to sometimes be cruel to get information. Information that was, at times, pivotal to people's survival.

It took a while to look at her father the same way again, even after he said he hated doing it, and that he would never let it happen to her. She wondered if he would be on her side if he were alive, and if he would have been able to overrule this.  _Of course, he still would have been the king,_  she thought to herself.  _And he always believed me, even when I told him about Grandmother, and about the goblins. And he saw Dirtclaw, he would have understood._

She felt her wrists being chained to the walls. They were long enough that she could back away from the wall a step or two, but short enough that if she crouched down, her arms would be pulled up. Her cape was swung around so it hung in front of her. The back of her dress was unlaced and pushed to the sides, leaving her back open to the room. She planted her hands flat against the wall and rested her forehead between them.

"I'll grant you one more mercy if you answer the question," Aldrich whispered in her ear. She flinched at the soft gusts of air.

"It will always be the same," she whispered back.

"... Very well." She heard him step back away from her. Someone behind her approached her. She braced herself for what she knew was coming.

 _Crack!_  She screamed in pain as something long and seemingly sharp slapped her across the back so hard, she felt her skin welting instantly. "At every strike, you will be given a chance to answer," Aldrich continued, as if she had merely been slapped on the wrist. "And it will be the same question each time. If you do not answer, or you provide the wrong answer, it will continue."

As if to prove his point, she was whipped again. She screamed again, but still said nothing. This continued on for what seemed like hours before someone unchained her wrists and she was led back to her cell. She collapsed on her front in the straw and sobbed in pain. Her back felt like it was on fire, and she wondered if she was imagining the blood running down her sides. She shoved a mouthful of her cape into her mouth and bit down as hard as she could.

* * *

This continued on. Every few days, she would be interrogated by Aldrich, brought down to the cellar, and interrogated some more. It was always the same routine: her wrists were chained to the walls, her back exposed, and the whip would bite at her over and over. She counted at least ten lashings, though she wondered if some days granted her more.

And she still said nothing.

One day when she was brought back, over her sobs, she heard footsteps. She froze where she lay, fearful that someone had come to bring her back and do something worse. She heard a gentle tap against the door, which confused her. No one had knocked when announcing themselves during the past several days.

Then, a soft and nervous voice called out, "Y-your Highness?"

Irene carefully sat up, thankful that her hair wasn't so long it would brush against her back. With a humorless laugh, she said, "I'm afraid I no longer have the privilege of being called that, Angelica." During a prior interrogation, Aldrich had threatened with stripping her of her princess title if she didn't tell them where Froglip was. Naturally, she had a few more wounds that would scar and the simple name of Irene.

Her handmaiden didn't answer as she slowly walked in. She heard her unlock the gate, swing it open, and step in. She looked over her shoulder and watched her close and lock the gate. She was still wrapped up in red, just as she remembered. "Are you... no, that's a stupid question." She shook her head as she knelt down next to Irene. "May I?"

She saw that she was holding a wrapped bundle in her arms. She nodded wordlessly. Angelica unwrapped the bundle, revealing medical supplies. She turned back away as she picked up a bottle and piece of cloth. She flinched and cried out when she pressed the wet cloth against her back. "I'm sorry!" Angelica exclaimed. "I'm sorry!"

"I-it's all right," she groaned, steeling herself. She had to be quiet, otherwise someone else would be punished and it would be her fault. "How b-bad is it?"

"It... they will scar, I'm afraid. But they can be covered quite easily."

 _Why does she sound like she has experience with that?_  "What have I done?" she whispered.

"You followed your heart," she replied, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. "Do you truly not know where Froglip is?"

"Even if I knew, I would not say. After everything we've been through, and after everything we've done... I will not betray him."

"So does this make up for everything he has done before? Do you forgive him for that?"

She was silent for a few minutes. She hadn't thought about her and Froglip's past in a long time. Did that mean she had forgiven him for what he nearly did? That wasn't an easy thing to think about. But she knew him well enough by now that he wouldn't do it again. And they had bonded so deeply, she couldn't help but forgive him. She simply nodded in response.

"You love him..."

She looked quickly over her shoulder with a soft gasp. Angelica froze with a frightened expression. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have... that was... I..." She quickly finished her work and left the dungeon quickly, face flushed with embarrassment.

Once her footsteps had faded away, Irene thought back to what she had said  _"You love him." Do I love Froglip? Am I in love with him?_

The more she thought about it, the less she was astonished by the realization. In fact, it made her chest feel lighter, as if a weight had been lifted with this realization. She found herself smiling fondly. She knew that if she could see herself, she would look the picture of a young maiden gazing at a handsome young man. She chuckled.  _Or a brave young goblin in my case, perhaps?_


	42. Chapter 41 -- Secrets and Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> Later in the chapter, there is talk of symbolism and how that is subtle magic. It was really hard to write in a way that makes sense, but I hope it at least made a LITTLE sense. It was fun looking up what each item (pink roses, pigeons, stones) symbolized, and how much it fit with Irene, especially in this story.

A few days after this revelation, Irene was sitting in her cell again. Her back felt sore and raw after another interrogation, and she could have sworn, again, that her wounds were bleeding. She had no mirror, and she didn't want to feel her back with her hands for fear of infection. But she wasn't naive enough to think it wouldn't scar. She knew she would have horrible scars across her back. But she didn't quite know how to feel about it yet. All she felt was pain, suffering, and loneliness.

She barely turned her head when she heard another gentle knock. She simply grunted in reply. She heard careful footsteps approach her, the gate unlock, open, and close. "Y-your H-H-Highness?"

"... Please call me Irene... or even Reenee, if you'd like."

Angelica froze for a brief moment, staring down at her. "... All right, R... Irene. Might I t-treat your wounds?"

"If you'd like," she shrugged. "I simply urge you to be careful. If they knew you did it, they would hurt you."

"You would tell them?!" she gasped.

"No, but you were the only one who took care of me before. They would suspect you within a second."

"Why would you want to protect me?"

"Because I care about you, and I want you keep you safe. I brought all this trouble on myself by myself, I won't drag anyone else into it."

Angelica remained silent for several minutes as she tended to Irene's wounds. She cringed when she saw her bare back. The oldest wounds were still healing over, and so still looked angry and red. The newest ones were raw and bleeding. They all snaked across her back, trailing around her sides and up her neck, and crisscrossed over each other.

"You-Irene, about what I said last time... I-"

"-I've been thinking about what you said," Irene interrupted, her voice cracking every now and then from pain. "And I think I've come to a conclusion... no, I  _know_  I've come to a conclusion. I  _am_  in love with Froglip. I fell in love with a goblin," she scoffed with a smile. "Isn't it funny? I've fallen in love with my enemy. It's like one of my stories."

"How do you feel about... goblins now?"

"I've learned so much about them during my journey. I learned some of their culture, their stories, how they hunt, so much! And I want to know more. So much more. I believe I've even garnered a bit of respect for them. I haven't forgotten what they've done... but upon learning how Sun-People–well, us humans, that is–treated them, I honestly don't blame them all that much."

Angelica said nothing until she was finished. She laced the back of her dress as carefully as she could, and knelt down in front of her. She looked conflicted and scared, as if she was expecting to be punished for something. "I want to tell you a secret," she eventually said. "It's something I've kept to myself all my life. No one but my family knows about it. If it reached the wrong ears, my life would be immediately taken from me. You must promise-no,  _swear_. Swear that you will never tell anyone else what I am going to show you."

Irene's eyes widened. She had never heard her handmaiden talk for so long, or so sternly, without stuttering a single time. "I swear," she nodded. "I won't tell a single soul. You have my word."

She stared at her, as if not expecting her to promise so fervently. But she nodded. She shakily raised one hand and slowly pulled the red glove off. Her hand was the same tan color that the rest of her body was, though her palms were paler. But instead of fingernails, she had dark, dirty-yellow claws.

She lifted her trembling hands and slowly flipped back her veil. Two large, pointed ears bounced out, as they had been pinned against her head under the veil. They were the same color as the rest of her skin, and the insides matched her claws. Her straw-colored hair reached her shoulders and flowed around her ears.

She repositioned herself so her knees bent up in front of her chest. She removed both her shoes, revealing that she wasn't wearing her hose. Instead of five toes, she had three, and they all had claws, all the same color as the ones on her hands.

Irene found herself staring at her in shock. "You're... you're a goblin?"

"A half-goblin," Angelica corrected herself, rubbing her ears. Irene could see that there were red marks where they had been bent. "I don't know which of my parents was a human, and which a goblin. I only know what I am. My human family always hated me. They never told me if my mother or father were human, they said I didn't deserve the courtesy. They made me cover everything save for my face—thank the Lord my face at least looks a little normal."

Looking at her now, Irene could see that her nose was wide-set, and her nostrils deep and round. Her eyes were round and yellowed, though only slightly. And her cheekbones were sharp, jutting out far more than she had seen on any Sun-Person. She looked like a goblin, though those features were softened by her Sun-Person parent.

"When they heard that you needed a new handmaiden, they saw a chance to get rid of me. They pushed me to get the job, saying that if it were discovered I was half of the creatures that tried to take you and kill the miners... well, they would be well and truly rid of me. That was why I was so careful at hiding myself."

"And why you were so afraid of me," Irene added softly.

She nodded solemnly. "I knew that if you discovered who I was, you would have me exiled. If your people didn't try to convince you to execute me, that is. Don't lie and say you wouldn't have done that, I know you would have."

"... Yes, it is true I would have been horrified," she admitted, feeling very ashamed and disgusted at herself. "But that was then, and this is now." She held out a hand to lay on Angelica's shoulder. When she flinched back, she laid both hands on her own knees. "Angelica... I'm not the woman I once was. I don't care that you're half-goblin, that doesn't mean you're like the ones who attacked me. I know you as a kind, gentle, hard-working woman. And your parentage doesn't change that."

Tears began to fall down her face, though she was smiling for what felt like the first time in a long time. "Th-thank you," she whispered.

"And I swear, I will take this secret with me to the grave. No one will know about it, I promise... Do music and singing still hurt you? And your feet?"

"I can listen to music, though it sounds like it's too loud, and it gives me a headache. Singing, it's basically the same. And my feet are quite sensitive, though I doubt as much as true goblins." She began to pull her shoes and glove back on, and readjust her hood. She looked the same as she did, but Irene saw a change in her that only she saw now that she knew her secret.

* * *

That night, Irene was sitting in her cell, back against the wall, with her cape wrapped around her front. It wasn't the most comfortable way to rest in her current position, but it was better than laying in the straw. The first time she tried to sleep on the floor after her first session, the straw poked at the wounds on her back. She eventually found that laying her back against the wall, though still uncomfortable, was better than laying on hard pieces of dried plants.

Her eyes were closed, though she was far from falling asleep. She was still thinking about the events of the day, sans her session; about her full realization that she had fallen in love with Froglip, and Angelica revealing her own secret.

She felt absolutely horrible that her handmaiden had to keep who she was a secret. And her family sounded awful! Sending her away, expecting her to be killed for who she was? She had little shame in admitting that she wouldn't have taken such news well had she learned it before journeying with Froglip; she knew very well that that could have easily happened. But what she was ashamed of was what would have happened if she did learn of it. Would she have sent her away? Called for her execution? Her stomach churned at the thought, and she counted her blessings that she had changed in such a way that not only did she accept her friend's secret, but that it didn't bother her in the slightest.

Who would have thought she would change so much from one simple journey?

Said journey made her wonder about Froglip. Was he still at the Mountain Man's house? Was he back home? Did he have his new cloak? Was he king of the goblins now? And once he was king, would he still remember her? She knew that she herself would never forget him.

She also found herself wondering how he felt about her. She knew he saw her as a friend, he admitted it himself. And he treated her like a close friend too. When they started their journey, he would have never talked about his secrets to her, showed emotions that he normally kept hidden, or especially pull her into a hug.

But did he truly see her as only a friend? She hoped that he saw her as more than a friend, but she also knew they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. She was locked away, he was probably miles away, and even if things had been as smooth as she initially hoped, they wouldn't ever see each other again anyway. Not without their people fighting and chasing the other away. And this realization made her heart ache.

Through the window above her, light began to shine through the bars. At first she thought it was the moon pushing through the clouds. But as she opened her eyes, the light formed a large orb in the room. It grew bigger and bigger, and she began to smell roses. Her eyes widened as the light slowly morphed into a tall woman in a dress, with long hair that pooled on the floor. "G-Grandmother?" she whispered, sitting up straighter with a pained cringe.

"My poor, sweet girl," her grandmother sighed sadly, crouching in front of her. Unlike previous meetings with her, she was ever so slightly see-through, like a curtain of silk with sunlight shining through. And there seemed to be stars twinkling on her person, the brightest of which were in her eyes. It was if she either didn't have enough energy to fully form, or she simply didn't want to.

"Grandmother, please, help me."

"I'm afraid I cannot."

"But... but why?" she whimpered, feeling betrayed. "Can you at least heal my wounds, as you did the night the goblin cat attacked me?"

"I cannot. The people in the castle would see that you were healed, and become suspicious. They would accuse you of terrible things and hurt you more. Your handmaiden is already at great risk for helping you."

"Then why are you here?" Irene asked bitterly. She never even entertained the idea of speaking so rudely to her grandmother in the past, but now she did it without a thought. "Why are you here, talking with me, if you're not going to help me?!" She reached out to grab her hand, but her own hand fell straight through her. She felt a warm presence, like the inside of a fireplace after the fire had been put out. "Why?" she asked again, softer this time, and with tears pooling her eyes.

"I wish I could help you, my darling," the older woman smiled sadly, sounding incredibly regretful. "But I fear that you are growing up too fast now. Too fast for me to help you in any other way. You've already accomplished so much on your own, you won't need me anymore."

"... Is Froglip all right? Can you at least tell me that?"

"He is safe, that is all I can tell you."

"You say that I accomplished much on my own... but my necklace-"

"-Your necklace had nothing to do with what you did on your journey."

"But... but you said it would help me! I thought it would help me become more brave! Did you lie to me?"

"In a sense, no."

"In a sense? What does that mean?"

"If you thought that the necklace alone made you braver, then it also made you foolish. But when you made the truce with the goblin prince to find the winged wolf and kill him, were you letting your necklace influence you? When you guided him across the raging river, did it influence you? When you approached the mountain and attacked the wolf, did you let it influence you? Or was that all bravery from inside of you all along?" she asked, pointing a finger to Irene's heart. She didn't feel the fingertip touch her, but she did feel a warm spot on her chest.

"Then why did you give me the petals and feathers?"

"Do you know what roses and pigeons symbolize? The pigeon is peace, gentleness, and eternal, everlasting love. It is the belief in infinite possibilities. And the rose is love and passion. But pink roses, one of the symbols of your family? Gentleness, grace, and gladness. Joy, sweetness, and admiration."

"I... I still don't understand, Grandmother."

"Irene, I told you that your necklace would help you find your own magic. And I told you about that magic ten long years ago. The rose petals and pigeon feathers do have a bit of magic in them. Not the kind you think of, where it would make you brave. They symbolize you perfectly, and in doing so guided you on your journey. But you still had your own thoughts and actions."

She still didn't quite understand, but she knew she would think on it later on. Perhaps it would make sense in time. "Do I have other... items with symbolism?"

"Yes. That fire opal on your finger? Magic itself, but also love, progress, hope, happiness, and truth. And the goldstone on your necklace; confidence and empowerment, and that light can always be found in the darkest of times." She stood up, and her smile became gentler. "I don't expect you to understand it all straight away, but I  _do_  ask you this: continue to be brave and have faith."

"I want to, Grandmother. But I do not know how much more I can take. Is there truly nothing you can do?"

"I have done all I can, my sweet. All I can from the time you were a tiny girl, up until you left this castle."

"Please don't go!" Irene exclaimed, jumping up. Her cape fell at her feet as she reached out for her grandmother, gasping when her hands went straight through her. "Please! I don't want to lose you!"

"You will never lose me," her grandmother soothed her, kissing her forehead. She swore she could feel the faintest of contact, though it was barely there. "I will always be with you in your heart. You have grown so much, you no longer need me. Remember all I taught you, and always remain true to your heart, no matter how strange it may seem to other people. Do not give up hope, things will soon be different." As she spoke, she faded away until all that were left were the sparkling "stars". But those also faded away; the last of which were the ones in her eyes.

Irene fell heavily to her knees. They were cushioned by the cape pooled beneath her, though the pin dug into her shin. Her grandmother's words ran through her, including what her necklace and ring symbolized.

It took only minutes before she realized what her grandmother had been trying to tell her: everything that her necklace and ring symbolized were her all along. The petals, feathers, and jewels symbolized her, not influenced her. They represented her magic: good against evil, right against wrong, and doing what she thought was right, even if no one would help.

 _Do not give up hope, things will soon be different._  She prayed that things would change. She hated the situation she was in right now.


	43. Chapter 42 -- "Friends"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original Princess and the Goblin story is owned by George MacDonald, and the movie by Entertainment Film Distributions and Budapest Film. Any unrecognized characters are mine.
> 
> I hadn't realized I forgot to post the previous chapter until now, so I apologize for the double-update.

When Curdie returned home, his parents hounded him with questions: where had he gone? Why had their horse run home, saddled and riderless? What was he thinking?

He told them the truth. Of course, they had already heard about the king's death, and how the goblin prince—or ex-prince, as it were—had been blamed. He told them about Dirtclaw, how Irene discovered it had been the winged wolf who killed him, as well as the goblin king and queen. And about how Irene and Froglip set off to find Dirtclaw to kill him, about how he saw them leaving, and convinced them to let him accompany him.

"Then why are you here?" his father asked. "Why is she alone with the goblin?"

"... She trusts him," he simply said. "But he won't hurt her. I saw it. And she can defend herself. This is her mission... not mine."

In the end, Curdie told his fellow miners that he had fallen ill and stayed home for the several days he was gone. They accepted this lie, and asked if he was well enough to work. He said he was; he wanted to be distracted from wondering if Irene was truly safe.

His parents had made him swear up and down and on his life that he wouldn't just up and leave without at least leaving a note again. They both understood his concerns, though they did berate him for leaving the princess alone with a major enemy. "I only hope that you're right in that she will be safe," his mother sighed. "I hate to think what her betrothed would do to you if she returned injured, and he knew you could have been with her."

"He'd be more upset that I had been with her," he scoffed. "After all, how dare some low-life, insignificant peasant be seen with the princess!"

It was several long days after he had returned home, and there was still no word if she had been seen returning home. He listened for news and watched for her horse. But there was nothing. He didn't even hear anything from the goblins in the mines; they were still as silent as they had been for the past ten years. He didn't dare ask if his friends had heard if she returned, because it would raise questions as to how he knew she was gone.

All he could do was wait.

And eventually, his patience was rewarded. "Did'ja know the princess disappeared?" one of his friends asked. He was a tall, wide-set man, with long curly hair tied back, sad eyes, and a jolly face.

"No," Curdie lied, shaking his head and trying to look surprised.

"Thought'chu would'ave heard, seein' as you're her friend. But she was gone 'round the time you was sick, so I s'pose you didn't hear. Bu' anyway, rumor is she made off wit' a goblin! Th'same goblin that tried to kidnap her!"

"But she's back now," another of Curdie's friends remarked. He was shorter than the two of them, had a thin, handsome face, albeit with a few burns on his cheeks, had stringy hair that reached his shoulders—he had it tied back as well—and a strong physique. "An' she was arrested."

This was news to Curdie. "Arrested?! Whatever for?!"

They both simply shrugged. "No one's said," the shorter man said. "There was only word that she had returned an' was arrested."

Later that day, during lunch, Curdie ran out of the mines, jumped on his horse, and made off for the castle. He hoped and prayed that the rumor of her arrest were false.

But when he reached the castle, and quickly dismounted his horse, he found the guards staring him down were not the ones he knew. They were wearing purple and white, rather than pink and off-white. "I'm here to see Princess Irene," he said firmly, adjusting his headband.

"She's not taking visitors," one of the guards sneered. "Off with you, peasant."

"I am Curdie Peterson! I was a great friend to King Jamison, and I know the guards of Porumbel well. I wish to know if the rumors of Princess Irene's arrest are true, and the reason why if she was indeed arrested. And I will not leave until I learn the truth."

Before the guards could say anymore, one of the doors behind them was cracked open. A different guard, one whom he recognized, said, "Let him in. We know him, and he deserves an answer." When one of the guards tried to protest, he frowned, "Remember that you came to our castle, not we to yours. And you will respect friends of the crown. Especially ones that helped to win a war."

Grunting angrily, the two men opened the doors. Curdie was escorted inside by two of the guards he had befriended during the war. One was a tall, thin man with a thin, pointy mustache and goatee, and a large, hooked nose. The other was shorter and wider, with a round nose and fat cheeks. Their names were Bernard and Ernest respectively.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ernest sighed, glancing back at the guards and adjusting his helmet. It had small horns, one of which was pointed down. "They're very serious 'bout their jobs."

"Is it true that Irene was arrested?" Curdie asked.

Bernard sighed and answered, "We're not really allowed to talk about it to anyone, least of all... erm-"

"-To peasants?" Curdie groaned.

"We have nothing against you," the thinner man protested, fiddling with his spear.

"I know you don't. But apparently the man in charge does."

Both guards remained silent as they escorted their friend into the throne room. Aldrich was sitting on the throne, flanked by a mix of his and Irene's guards. "Pardon, Your Majesty," Bernard said as he and Ernest both bowed at the waist. "But Curdie Peterson was asking about Irene, and we thought it best to bring him to you."

"Hrmmm," Aldrich grumbled, though he looked like he was trying to be civil. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Was she indeed arrested? And what for?"

"You will refer to His Majesty by his title!" one of his guards snapped.

"Peace," Aldrich purred, raising a hand. "He asked two questions, ones that can be easily answered. To start with, yes. She was indeed arrested. As for why: treason."

"Treason?"

"It means that she rebelled against her kingdom-"

"-I know what treason means," Curdie scowled, clenching his fists.

"Really? You're smarter than I gave credit for. But yes, treason. She ran away with the enemy for several days, yet she will not explain why."

"She claims she was off to seek revenge for her father," another knight squeaked. He was one of Irene's knights; he was a short man, clothed entirely, sans his small eyes and giant nose. His name was Kenneth. "She said His Former Majesty, Jamison, was killed by a great black wolf with wings like a bat!"

"She said it was the same creature that killed the goblin king and queen," another of Irene's guards added. He had a brown horseshoe mustache and short hair tied at the base of his skull. His name was Reinhold.

Aldrich rolled his eyes with a disgusted scoff. "I told you all I have heard enough of these stories! They are impossible and ridiculous! There are no such things as winged wolves, much less ones that are smart enough to commit murder! There aren't even any wolves near here!"

"Let me see Irene," Curdie asked. "She'll speak the truth to me, I know she will. She did when we were children, even when I wouldn't believe her."

"And why would I let you, a simple miner, see a princess? Especially one that had been arrested for such a serious crime?"

"I'm her best friend. I know her well enough to know she doesn't lie. Especially about serious matters such as these. Please, give me at least five minutes with her." He mainly wanted to hear for himself if she had killed the beast, and where Froglip was. Had he been civil to her? Were they still friends? Had their relationship grown beyond that, heaven forbid? His curiosity was too great to resist.

"You think just because the king liked you that you can do whatever you like? I take back what I said about you being smart." He stood up from the throne and approached Curdie, reminding him of a lion stalking a goat. He laid a hand on his shoulder, though it felt anything but friendly, and said lowly, "You listen very carefully, miner. You will not be seeing your princess. You will turn around, and march back to that village you call a home. You will continue on with your life, and pretend you never learned of her imprisonment until it is announced to all the kingdom. And if I see you trying to come into this castle again, I don't care how many guards you have befriended, or how many wars you won before you even grew a single hair on your lip; you will not be escorted out so kindly next time. Do I make myself clear?"

His scowl remained, but Curdie nodded once. "Perhaps you  _do_  have a bit of brains in that skull. Mining hasn't knocked all of your senses out." He turned around and waved over his shoulder, "Get him out of my sight. And make sure he returns to his work."

Curdie was turned around and escorted out. He had never felt so humiliated in all his life. All he wanted to do was have a few words with his friend. "Why is he even in command here?" he snapped.

"While Irene's imprisoned, he's the only royalty here," Ernest explained. "We have people out lookin' for any relatives she might have who can take the throne in her place; aunts, uncles, cousins, anything."

"After all, with such a hard crime, she won't be put back into power after this."

"And if you don't find any?"

"Aldrich was promised that his kingdom an' Irene's 'ould be joined when they wedded," Bernard said. "And though they aren't married—there's word goin' 'round that they won't be after this—most of us have sided with him."

"Most of you?"

"He 'as a way with words, an' we're lost withou' a leader," the wider guard sighed. "'e's more experienced in ruling a kingdom, and is the elder of him an' Irene."

"So he'll get the kingdom one way or another," Curdie realized.

"If the majority of us don't vote on 'im bein' made king without him marrying, he'll buy our kingdom," Bernard explained as they stepped outside of the castle. Curdie hadn't even realized how long they had been walking. "If someone is found that's able to rule, they'll take over. An' if they can be queen, she'll marry him."

"Do you know what will happen to Irene?"  _Or is that something else I had to ask the "king"?_

The two guards glanced uneasily at each other before removing their helmets. Their hair was messy and sweaty, and they both looked forlorn. "She may be executed for high treason, if found guilty," the taller one sighed.

"An' insanity," his friend added.

"Aye."

"How could you let this happen?! She is your princess! You stood by her family for generations, I imagine!"

"She left us!" Bernard suddenly shouted, slamming his helmet back onto his head. "She left with her greatest enemy after her father died, and we were left with nothing! Aldrich may be an outright git, but he took over when she abandoned us! She was so focused on wolves and vengeance, she may have been an unfit heir all along an' we didn't know it!"

Glancing at his friend, Ernest replaced his helmet and whispered to Curdie, "It's probably best you leave. The others were already grumblin' 'bout you comin' in, I dunno what they'll do if they see you still here."

Sighing heavily, Curdie turned and stomped to his patiently-waiting horse. He climbed on and rode back to the mines as hard as he could. As soon as he arrived, he leaped off and set right back to work. He ignored his friends' inquiries about where he had been and why he was so angry.

He wanted to be left alone.


End file.
